Still Another Universe
by transportation
Summary: Harry has killed Voldemort, and not for the first time. Instead of enjoying his victory, he's dragged to still another universe to do it all over again. But this time, it's August of 1981. Response/sequel to Silverfawkes' Yet Another Universe challenge.
1. Chapter 1

This is a response to Silverfawkes' challenge at the end of Yet Another Universe.

Many thanks to Heart of Spellz for incredibly prompt and reliably cheerful beta work.

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><p>When he recognized the feeling, not of an ordinary portkey, but of a trans-dimensional transport, Harry cursed aloud. He wasn't sure if anybody could hear him as he tumbled across the gaps of possibility, but he certainly hoped so. When he finally crashed into something solid, he finished his string of curses before he even opened his eyes. Surrounding him were a group of wizards and witches, looking slightly stunned. He was in Dumbledore's office, which meant that the old man was probably around. Yes, there he was at the head of the table, with McGonagall and Arthur Weasley flanking him. He glanced around, seeing nobody else he recognized until his eyes lit on himself, only a couple of years older. But even as he jerked his head back in shock, he realized that it wasn't him - the eyes were wrong, and the redhead sitting next to him was not Ginny. And sitting next to her was unmistakably Sirius Black.<p>

He couldn't help it. He started laughing. This was met with general alarm around the table, and he saw a few wands begin to point his way. Hastily he raised his hands, releasing Aelf, and said, "Whoa! Slow down. I'm not a threat to you. In fact, unless I'm mistaken, I'm here to save you."

Dumbledore looked at him in disbelief. "Would you care to explain yourself, young man?" he asked, in what Harry recognized as his condescending-yet-curious tone of voice.

"Not what you expected?" Harry replied, unwilling to cede any ground yet.

But it was Sirius who answered. "No, we were fully prepared for a teenage James impersonator in swimming trunks with an owl. That was our fondest hope. But who's the arse-munching old coot you were so angry at when you arrived?"

Harry looked down at himself. He was, in fact, wearing nothing but swimming trunks, and Aelf was settling into the rafters over his head. His wands were on his dresser in another universe, along with his cloak and the map. He cursed again, internally this time, but decided that he couldn't afford to show any weakness. "I hardly need to ask, but aren't you Sirius Black?" he demanded, looking Sirius right in the eye.

"At your service," said Sirius pleasantly.

"James Potter?" Harry asked next, looking at his father and trying not to hyperventilate. His father only nodded.

"Lily Evans?" he said to his mother.

She lifted her chin slightly. "It's Lily Potter."

His smile showed only a fraction of the relief he felt inside. "What's today's date?" he asked her.

"It's August the eleventh, 1981," she replied, a little confused.

He turned his face cold again. "Albus," he snapped. "I will talk to these three people only. We'll be back in an hour or two. Everybody else, stay here. If anyone tries to leave, I recommend you stun first and ask questions later." And he swept from the room, hoping and praying that his parents would follow before Dumbledore could stop him.

They did, along with Sirius, and he led them towards the seventh floor as fast as he could. Whenever any of them threatened to speak, he held up a hand, and they eventually got the message. When they arrived at the Room of Requirement, he paced back and forth, thinking "I need a place to talk where the Headmaster can't listen."

Sirius and James exchanged an uneasy look when the door appeared, suspicious of a room they hadn't found when mapping the castle. But Harry and Lily plunged through, and they followed, if only to avoid being left behind.

The room was small and comfortable, with four squashy armchairs arranged around a low table. Harry collapsed into one of them, waited for everyone else to sit down, and asked, "Can everyone throw up your best privacy spells? Oh, and could someone conjure me a set of robes? I feel a little silly like this, and I left my wand behind."

"Not hiding a wand in those swim trunks, then?" Sirius quipped.

Harry stared at him for a moment, and said, "I can't even begin to tell you what's wrong with that. Please, can somebody get me something to wear?"

James reluctantly conjured Harry a set of plain robes, while Lily performed three charms that he knew and one that he didn't to prevent eavesdropping. Harry took a deep breath. "I hope that's enough to keep this private, because I'd like for just you three to hear this." They focused on him, with varying degrees of suspicion in their eyes.

"Let me tell you a story," he began. "I don't know all the details of the early part, but I'll do the best I can. I expect you'll find the later parts more interesting anyways. Sometime in 1979 or 1980, Albus Dumbledore was interviewing a candidate for the Divination position at Hogwarts when the candidate gave what he believed to be a real prophecy." James and Lily gasped, and Sirius' eyebrows shot up. "Dumbledore decided that this prophecy could apply to one of several families, with the Longbottoms and the Potters being most likely. And he decided that the unborn baby of one of these families would be the one to destroy Voldemort." All three of them shuddered when he said the name, but he refused to slow down.

"Part of this prophecy was overheard by a Death Eater, who reported it to Voldemort. Voldemort came to a similar conclusion as Dumbledore, and began hunting these families specifically. Neville Longbottom was born on July 30, 1980, and Harry Potter was born the next day. At some point after that, the Potters, and likely the Longbottoms as well, went into hiding, protected by a Fidelius charm. With me so far?"

All three nodded, stunned into silence by the depth of his knowledge.

"James Potter and Sirius Black had been best friends all the way through Hogwarts. Everybody assumed that Sirius would be the secret keeper for the Fidelius hiding the Potters. But, at the last minute, they decided to try some trickery, and used Peter Pettigrew instead." James and Sirius had their hands on their wands, but Lily looked serene. "Unfortunately, Pettigrew was a Death Eater, working for Voldemort directly, and he told Voldemort where the Potters were hiding. On October 31, 1981, Voldemort went to Godric's Hollow. He killed James Potter, he killed Lily Potter, and he cast the Killing Curse at Harry Potter. But Lily had done some homework, and came up with a way to protect little Harry. The curse bounced off of Harry, and hit Voldemort, apparently destroying him."

Harry paused for breath. His audience was still stunned, ashen-faced and completely still. He grimaced, and said, "I'm sorry, but it gets worse." Nobody moved. "Everybody knew that Sirius was the Potters' secret keeper, so he was thrown into Azkaban without a trial. The Potters' will was never executed, and Harry was placed with Lily's muggle sister. A few days after Voldemort's apparent demise, some Death Eaters tortured Frank and Alice Longbottom into insanity. Neville was unharmed. He grew up with his grandmother, and Harry grew up with his aunt and uncle. They both went to Hogwarts in 1991, and were both sorted into Gryffindor." A little pride shone through James' horror when he heard this.

Harry decided to abandon the pretense he'd been carrying on. "I made some good friends at Hogwarts, but I was under attack almost from the day I showed up. Voldemort wasn't really gone, only disembodied, and the first time I faced him was at the end of my first year. I'll skip the details for now, but here are the important points. Before my third year, Sirius escaped from Azkaban. Somehow, he wasn't caught or killed, and he managed to explain to me what had happened, but he was never cleared by the ministry, and I was never able to live with him. In my fourth year, Voldemort kidnapped me and used my blood as part of a ritual to give him a new body, but I escaped before he could kill me. In my fifth year, I was drawn into a trap in the Department of Mysteries, and Sirius was killed trying to rescue me. In my sixth year, Voldemort overthrew the Ministry. And in what would have been my seventh year, I killed him."

James looked at Lily. "Harry's at home, right? He didn't escape and age sixteen years while we went to the Order meeting?" His voice was hollow, and Harry started to feel guilty for what he was putting him through. Lily didn't answer, but she looked like she might cry, which made Harry feel worse.

"I can clear some of this up, but the story starts to get weird," he said. "I'm not your Harry. What I just described happened in another universe. After I killed Voldemort, I was not treated all that well, and I started to think about leaving the wizarding world. But before I could, I found myself in the Shrieking Shack, surrounded by members of the Order of the Phoenix. It was my fifth year again, and they had performed a ritual to summon a hero from another universe to solve all their problems for them. In that universe, Harry had died the summer after his first year, when the Dursleys had starved him to death. So I killed Voldemort for them again. That was a couple of weeks ago, and I was just taking a nice holiday at the beach when I found myself in Dumbledore's office, surrounded by members of the Order of the Phoenix. Apparently you guys needed a hero?"

It was Lily who found her voice first. "We did. I'm sorry. It's just- we're losing this war, and people that we love are dying, and from all we know, the only hope we have to defeat Voldemort lies with a couple of babies. We can't hold out for another twenty years, and we can't send children into battle, so when Dumbledore found this summoning ritual, we agreed to it. I never imagined- never could have imagined that it would be you."

While Harry was paying attention to Lily, James and Sirius had exchanged a significant look, and as Harry started to answer, James raised his wand. "Finite Incantatem!' he cried. But before the spell could strike Harry, he dove to the floor, rolled to a low crouch, and fired two wandless, silent stunners under the table. James and Sirius slid to the floor, and their wands flew to Harry's hand.

Lily sat completely still. "I didn't know they were going to do that," she said desperately.

Harry tried to look stern, but he didn't have the heart. "I didn't either, or I would have let them," he answered. "I'm not under a glamour or anything, so I wouldn't have minded a Finite, if they'd asked. Uh, I guess now you know I'm pretty good without my wand, when I need to be."

She didn't look at all comforted. "Are they OK?" she asked.

"Yeah, those were just Stupefies, they're fine." When she didn't move, he waved at her. "Feel free to rennervate them. I'm sure they won't try anything after that."

She slowly pulled out her wand and performed the charm. First James and then Sirius stood up, groggy and confused. Lily smiled wryly at them. "He's quicker than you thought."

James looked at Harry, then back at her. "Did he have a wand?" he demanded.

Lily shook her head. "Apparently he can toss wandless stunners around like it's no big deal. I think you two might be out of your league."

Sirius smiled. "Well done, Harry, if that is your real name."

Harry glared at him. "I understand your suspicion, but I'm telling you the truth. I'd swear an oath, if I had a wand to use." He looked at Lily hesitantly. "Uh, Mrs. Potter?" he said. "Feel free to cast a Finite on me, if it will help these gentlemen to relax."

Sirius looked offended. "James, he called us gentlemen," he complained.

Lily rolled her eyes, then lifted her wand. "Finite Incantatem," she pronounced carefully. Harry's robes vanished, but everything else stayed the same.

Harry sighed, and tossed James and Sirius their wands. "Mr. Potter, would you do the honors?" he asked. James conjured him a fresh set of robes.

"Are you satisfied that I am who I say I am?" Harry asked wearily.

"For now, let's say that I am," James replied cautiously, and Sirius nodded. "And I guess I should say I'm sorry too. Like Lily said, we never could have imagined that it would be you that we summoned."

"You thought it would be King Arthur or something," Harry said, trying to lighten things up before his next bombshell. It worked, a little; Lily bit her lip and James looked sheepish. "Look, I was pretty hard on the people in the last universe who voted to summon me. But it's a little easier to swallow when it's me you're trying to protect." All three of them looked relieved.

"It sounds like you can help us, oh two-time-slayer-of-he-who-must-not-be-named. But are you willing to?" Sirius asked.

"Believe it or not, you get a lot of points just for asking. It never really occurred to those clowns in the last universe that I wouldn't be. So, assuming you're willing to make some guarantees, I'll help."

Sirius frowned. "Guarantees?"

"Yeah. Like, I won't be prosecuted for murder for killing Voldemort, or any of his followers. Like you'll leave me alone when I'm done, and not try to make me Minister of Magic or something. Like you'll work with me, and trust my judgment and experience, and find a way to get me the resources I need."

Sirius looked puzzled. "That sounds pretty reasonable. Is that all?"

Harry snorted. "Well, last time I asked for a lot of money. I'd do that again, but I doubt I'll be here to enjoy it. And it was mostly the Potter money, which I expect you're using."

Sirius didn't look reassured. "You doubt you'll be here? Seems to me like history is on your side. Do you think he's going to kill you this time?"

"I don't, although it's always a possibility," Harry said. "But I'm starting to think that I'm just going to keep doing this forever. Dumbledore obviously knows this ritual and is willing to use it, so he's just going to keep yanking me from universe to universe until my luck runs out, or until we run out of Voldemorts." All three of them looked horrified at this idea, but Harry waved them off. "It's all right. I miss some of my friends, but I was ready to leave my home anyways. The wizarding world didn't know what to do with me, the woman I loved betrayed me, and I had no family left in the world. It's better to have a purpose again."

Lily wasn't ready to let it go. "You sounded pretty angry when you landed," she said.

"Two things about that," Harry answered. "First, it's probably better to take out my anger on Voldemort than on people who are supposed to be on the same side as I am. Second, I don't trust Dumbledore, and I don't think you should either. I won't work for him or with him, and I hope to remove him from any position of influence in the wizarding world."

James and Sirius looked genuinely alarmed at this, although Lily seemed less concerned. "Would you mind explaining that?" she asked.

"I don't even know where to start. He failed me and ultimately betrayed me so many times. He died at the end of my sixth year, in my original home, and I thought I'd forgiven him, but seeing him alive again brought it all back. But let's start here: he ignored your will, and gave me to Petunia and Vernon to raise, knowing full well that they hated magic. He didn't check up on me at all, even after I showed up at Hogwarts underweight and afraid of my own shadow, and begged not to be sent back there. He kept me in the dark about everything - I didn't even know there was a prophecy about me until after Sirius died, and by then I'd faced Voldemort three times. He totally failed to keep the school safe. Two of the times I faced Voldemort were inside Hogwarts, and I fought Death Eaters, Dementors, a basilisk, and a dragon in this castle. And then I got to the second universe, and discovered him conspiring with the Slytherin head of house to cover up a sexual assault on a twelve-year-old girl."

"None of those things has happened here," James objected.

Harry glared at him. "You're right. Maybe it was your death that sent Dumbledore over the line. But here's something that might have happened already. The prophecy that Trelawney gave: part of it was overheard by a Death Eater. That Death Eater was Severus Snape." Sirius snarled, James punched the arm of his chair, and Lily sighed sadly. "Don't start with me," Harry warned. "You two aren't exactly blameless when it comes to Snape. But this is about Dumbledore as much as it's about Snape. Snape took that prophecy to Voldemort. But when he found out that it could be about you, he was appalled. He never stopped loving Mrs. Potter here, and he begged Voldemort to leave her alone when he killed me. But that wasn't good enough - he went running to Dumbledore and told him what he'd done. Dumbledore believed that he was remorseful, and accepted him into the Order of the Phoenix. And from then on, Snape lived a double life, working for either Dumbledore or Voldemort. I'm not sure even he knew which, some of the time. When I got to Hogwarts, he was the Potions professor, and he treated me exactly as you'd imagine he'd treat the son of James Potter."

"He sold us out to Voldemort, and Dumbledore took him back anyways?" Lily asked softly.

"That's what happened. It seems like he even had enough influence with Voldemort to save your life. When Voldemort showed up at Godric's Hollow that evening, he killed Mr. Potter, then offered Mrs. Potter the chance to stand aside while he killed me. She refused, so he killed her first. But I think he offered her the chance to live because Snape asked him to."

James and Lily exchanged a look. "I'm not sure how much of that has happened here," James said slowly. "We're not living under the Fidelius, although we've discussed it, and this summoning ritual was our last option before we tried it. Snape certainly hasn't showed up at any Order meetings. But Dumbledore's been hinting that he has a source in Voldemort's circle."

"So that makes two Death Eaters in the Order," Harry said flatly.

James' eyes widened. "Peter!" he breathed. "If Peter actually has the Dark Mark, I'll start seriously thinking about how much I trust Dumbledore."

"That's a start, anyways," Harry grumbled.

"Harry," said Sirius, almost timidly.

"We've been here long enough that Polyjuice would have worn off, so yes, I'm Harry."

Sirius snorted. "Why do you keep calling James and Lily 'Mr. Potter' and 'Mrs. Potter'?"

Harry looked at Lily. "My parents died when I was fifteen months old. I was brought up by people who hated me, neglected and abused me, and my whole life I dreamed of meeting my parents one day. I saw them in the Mirror of Erised, and I saw their shadows from Voldemort's wand, and I got to speak to them briefly when I had the Resurrection Stone, but I never got to experience life with them. And now I'm here, and you're alive, but you're just a couple of years older than me, and you've got your own little Harry at home. If I start to let myself think that you're my mum and dad, I will absolutely lose it, and I can't afford that right now." He was almost sobbing now. "No matter how much I want you to be, you're not my mum and dad. I'm not even sure I can handle being around you after this. I just had to see you face to face once."

They were silent for a minute. Lily stood up, but Harry held his hand up, and she sat back down. Finally Sirius asked, "So what am I doing here?"

Harry took a deep breath. "Sirius, I want you to be my liaison to the Order. I won't talk to Dumbledore, and I don't know most of the people in that room. I know you a little, and I'm not a hundred percent sure I trust you. But there's no way I'm going to give reports to Dedalus Diggle. Will you work with me?"

Sirius looked at him for a long moment. "We'll work on your trust issues later," he said, "but yes, I'll work with you."

Harry stood up. "I think that might be enough for right now. There's still a lot to tell you, but we're not going to win the war tonight. Let's get back to the Order meeting and tell them that I'm going to kill Voldemort again, figure out where I'm going to sleep tonight, and call it a night." James and Lily stood as well, their faces somber, and even Sirius was subdued. They trudged back to the Headmaster's office, Harry still wearing his conjured robes, and entered.

Harry imagined that the Order must have been in quite an uproar, but it was a quiet group that was waiting for them. He looked around the office quickly, seeing hopeful and desperate faces, and noticed Arthur Weasley's absence. He sighed and rubbed his forehead.

"Before I left, did I say something about allowing people to leave?" he asked, without even sitting down.

Dumbledore turned to him. "His wife went into labor. Surely you wouldn't begrudge Arthur the chance to see his child born?"

Harry turned to Lily, stunned. "Did you say August 11?" he asked. She nodded. "Ginny," he breathed.

An older witch that he didn't recognize snorted aloud. "Not likely," she said. "There hasn't been a female Weasley in a dozen generations."

Harry tried hard to keep his lips from twisting into a sneer. "When you people went fishing for a hero, you didn't get Beowulf. You got somebody from a universe very similar to yours, only about fifteen years in the future. If Ginevra Molly Weasley makes her appearance tonight, will you start to believe me?"

Eyebrows went up around the table, and heads nodded. "All right," Harry said. "Then work on this. There's a traitor in the Order of the Phoenix. He's not here right now, but he may have allies that I don't know about. That's why I asked you to make sure nobody left." He sighed again. "Look, you brought me here to help you, and I'm willing to do it, given a few minor conditions." A few people turned to his companions at this, and seemed relieved at their acceptance. "But you need to accept that the ritual worked. I am capable of killing Voldemort. In fact, I've done it twice before. And it will be easier and faster if you cooperate with me and respect my skills and knowledge. When you ignore my warnings, innocent people may die. And ultimately, I'm here to prevent innocent people from dying. So if everybody would roll up their left sleeve, please?"

Dumbledore had been waiting for Harry to finish, but he couldn't let this go. "I assure you, young man, that each of these people has my full and complete trust. There's no need for anybody to demonstrate their loyalty to you, particularly when you haven't even given us your name."

Harry really wished he'd had time to pick a better alias, but now he was stuck. "You can call me Lex Luthor," he said, mentally rolling his eyes. "And I'm aware of at least one member of the Order who has taken the Dark Mark. I'd like to make sure there's not another. This will be a lot easier if Voldemort doesn't know I'm here."

Sirius stepped forward. Without saying a word, he rolled up his sleeve. When Harry nodded, James, then Lily did the same. Slowly, the others seated at the table followed suit one by one. When only Dumbledore was left, Harry looked at him pointedly.

Dumbledore sighed. "Mr. Luthor, I'm not sure why you feel this is necessary," he said, making no move to expose his arm.

Harry grimaced at him. "Dumbledore, I doubt very much that you've taken the Dark Mark. But I'm not sure why you feel that you don't owe your companions the same loyalty that they've shown to you."

Dumbledore bristled. "My loyalty is not in question here."

Harry rolled up his own sleeve, and waited. When Dumbledore remained still, Harry turned to Sirius. "I think we're done here," he said. "Sirius, pick three people you trust absolutely, at least one of which you hate, and let's get out of here. It would be nice if Moody was one of them."

Sirius winced. "Moody's in St. Mungo's. He may not make it. That was the last straw for us, in some ways."

Harry looked down. "I'm sorry. I think Moody will pull through, if it's any consolation. But I'm done talking to Dumbledore tonight. Let's get out of here." When Sirius nodded, Harry raised one arm to the ceiling. Aelf landed on his wrist, and he grabbed Sirius with his other arm and dragged him to the fireplace. Before Dumbledore could object, he grabbed a handful of Floo powder, tossed it into the fireplace, and declared, "The Three Broomsticks."

He tumbled into the familiar pub, and Sirius stepped out of the fireplace behind him. "Can you Apparate us?" Harry asked hastily.

Sirius looked doubtful. "Can you help?"

"I can, but there's only so much I can do without a wand." Harry thought he was perfectly capable of Apparating them both, but discretion seemed to be the best policy.

Sirius grabbed Harry by the arm, gritted his teeth, and counted to three. Harry poured a fair bit of power into the apparition, and they appeared in an unfamiliar alley, completely intact. Sirius led him around the corner, and Harry stopped, momentarily baffled.

"This isn't Grimmauld Place," he objected.

"Merlin, no!" Sirius replied, appalled. "I wouldn't go near the place. This is my flat in Cardiff. Now look, you may have avoided Dumbledore for now, and I don't even want to think about the interrogation James and Lily are getting, but I have a lot of questions for you. Are you going to answer them?"

Harry gave him half a smile. "You supply the tea, I'll supply the answers," he offered. Sirius nodded, and they proceeded up the stairs to Sirius' flat.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry and Sirius settled into the living room of Sirius' flat. It was cramped and dirty, the kitchen littered with takeaway containers, an empty bottle of Firewhiskey adorning the coffee table. Sirius delivered the promised tea in a mug with no handle, not even offering milk or sugar. Harry sipped his tea in silence. He had been completely keyed up during the long meeting, but the long day and his unconventional journey had left him more drained than he realized.

Sirius wouldn't let him sit for long, though. He fixed his stare on Harry, and when Harry let it roll off of him, he spoke. "So. You're our best hope against a megalomaniac dark lord and his merry band of murderers. You despise the long-standing leader of the light, you won't let yourself bond with your parents, and you don't even trust me, as honorable and true a man as you'll ever meet. The girl you once loved is now a few hours old, which is OK because that means she hasn't had a chance to sleep with your best friend yet. And I get the feeling that I haven't even scratched the surface of why you're so angry."

Harry held up a hand. "One minor correction. My best friend was Ginny's brother, so it wasn't him she slept with. It was—I don't even know. Some Ravenclaw. And I don't know that I was in love with her. It was just a good thing for a while. How did you know it was Ginny, anyways?"

Sirius smiled, and Harry felt a pang. He had never seen such a natural smile on Sirius' face – any Sirius. "It was written all over your face when you realized where Arthur was. I don't know if you were in love with her either, but you seem to have some kind of fond memory."

Harry sighed. "It was only a memory even before I left home. I'm better off never seeing her again anyways, and you can be sure I won't be visiting baby Ginny. Or baby Harry."

"What exactly did Dumbledore take away from you?"

"Did you ever meet Lily's family?" Harry knew it wasn't fair to keep answering questions with questions, but he couldn't figure out how to tell Sirius straight out.

"I was the best man at their wedding," Sirius answered, slightly affronted.

"Did you get the idea that Petunia was a sweet, open-minded woman?"

"No, she was kind of a prune, but she was completely terrified of us," Sirius said breezily. "She spent the whole wedding acting like we were going to set her hair on fire."

"Is this another thing I have to thank you for?" Harry said, his hackles rising.

"Look, we didn't touch her, or her ignorant walrus of a boyfriend. I guess Lily had just told her enough stories that she was a little nervous about us," Sirius said, hands raised in protest.

Harry sighed. "All right. Well, for some reason, she hated magic. Fear, jealousy, whatever it was, she hated Lily, she hated James, I'm sure she hated you, and she hated me. They kept me in the cupboard under the stairs until I was ten. They made sure I never had any friends. They didn't take me to the doctor, and I didn't get my glasses until the school nurse forced them to buy them. They did everything they could to make me as miserable as they could." Sirius was staring at him uncertainly, unable to make a joke about the situation, but Harry didn't even notice. "I used to fall asleep wishing that some long-lost relative would come and rescue me. And then my Hogwarts letter came, and it was like all my dreams came true. I made friends, I had a vault full of gold, and I was far, far away from the Dursleys. Sure, Snape was mean, and Binns was boring, but school was pretty brilliant for the first couple of months. But it all fell apart. Voldemort was possessing our Defense teacher, and he tried to kill me a few times that year. He never even would have been there if Dumbledore hadn't kept a Philosopher's Stone in the school. He even sent me back to the Dursleys for the summer. And it went on like that for years. I faced Voldemort again my second year, along with a bloody great snake. When you broke out of prison, he didn't even want to tell me, and then Hermione and I rescued you from Dementors and you told me the truth. My fourth year I was forced into a Tri-Wizard tournament, which he couldn't protect me from, and then portkeyed to a ritual to give Voldemort a new body. But it was the end of fifth year that was the end for me. I got tricked into thinking Voldemort was torturing you, and went to rescue you with a few of my friends. The whole thing was a trap, you weren't there, but he was trying to get a record of the prophecy about us. The prophecy got smashed, you showed up to rescue me, and Bellatrix killed you. After that, he told me about the prophecy. He told me that he knew, when he sent me to the Dursleys, he was condemning me to ten dark, difficult years. And that was really all I needed to know. He sacrificed me to save everybody else. He chose to believe the prophecy, and rather than fighting Voldemort himself, he threw me to the wolves."

Harry paused, trying to focus on Sirius' original question. "He failed me in a lot of ways. He put me with the Dursleys, he couldn't protect me from Voldemort and the Death Eaters, he let Sirius rot in Azkaban even though he was innocent. I was eleven the first time I killed a man in Hogwarts. But here's the worst thing he did to me: as far as I know, he completely controlled my life from the day my parents died. All the good things, all the bad things, they all come back to him. And so I don't even know- the people who were kind to me, was it because they liked me? Or was it because Dumbledore bribed them, or blackmailed them, or whispered suggestions in their ears? I don't know if there was anybody, other than Hermione and maybe Ron, who wasn't under his thumb. That's what he took away from me."

Sirius waited until Harry had run out of steam to start speaking, his eyes focused on a point far beyond Harry's left shoulder. "I know that, right now, I'm not exactly marriage material. I'm young and selfish and frequently unreliable, and I'm more interested in having fun than, well, settling down. But the first time I saw you, I saw the joy in James' face, and I felt a little piece of that joy myself, and I thought that maybe someday I would want it for me, too." He looked directly at Harry. "I am bloody furious that Dumbledore did this to you, and that I wasn't there for you. I wish there was something I could do."

Harry gave him a pained smile. "Sirius, Mr. and Mrs. Potter aren't my parents, and you're not my godfather. Your responsibilities are to little Harry here, not to me. Just—my Sirius, he went after Peter. He came to the house, my parents were dead, and Hagrid was there to collect me for Dumbledore. He left me with Hagrid and went after Peter, and that's where it all went wrong. If you ever have to choose, choose little Harry."

Sirius gazed steadily at him. "If it ever comes to that, I will." He snorted gently. "You know, I hate my family so much that family loyalty doesn't come naturally to me."

Harry sat up straight. "Sirius!" he cried. "Is your brother still alive?"

"Regulus? No, he went and got himself killed more than a year ago. Nobody's sure exactly what happened. He was a Death Eater, but it looks like they killed him for some reason. My mother went mad with grief—literally mad, as far as I've heard—and died not long after."

Harry winced. He waved a hand towards the kitchen, and a bottle of Firewhiskey floated obligingly into the room. He poured a generous measure into Sirius' tea, and added a splash to his own.

Sirius regarded him with a little alarm. "With everything you've told me today, you're going for the hard stuff now?" he asked.

Harry couldn't keep the grief off of his face. "This is hard to tell you, and it's going to open another whole can of worms, but you deserve to know. Your brother died a hero. Right here and now, he's done more to defeat Voldemort than anybody else in the world, alive or dead."

Sirius grabbed the teacup and gulped the contents down, ignoring the scalding in his throat, then hurled it into the fireplace. Ceramic shards sprayed across the room. He threw his head back and howled with rage, sounding more like Moony than Padfoot. Harry watched him, trying to decide if he needed to summon Sirius' wand before he did real harm. But Sirius composed himself a little, and turned to Harry. "Tell me everything," he demanded hoarsely.

So Harry did. The grief on Sirius' face deepened when he heard of the ordeal his brother had been through, and turned to horror when he heard what the locket had been. When Harry finished, Sirius remained quiet for a long time. "Reg," he finally said. "Reg, I'm sorry, I should have been there for you." Harry didn't know what to say. "Oh, Reg," Sirius continued. "I'll kill him for you, I swear. I swear it, Reg."

"I'm not sure you can," Harry interjected. "But the Horcrux is yours."

The mention of the Horcrux shifted Sirius' attention away from his brother a little. "This is how he came back, in your world?" he asked. When Harry nodded, he grimaced. "So we've got to destroy it before you go after him?"

"He didn't just make one."

Sirius went pale. "Merlin," he whispered. "I knew he was mad, but to make more than one Horcrux—if he was mad to start, he must be barely human now. How many?"

"Barely human is right. Based on what I know right now, he's made five. He wants to split his soul into seven parts. I'm not good enough at Arithmancy to tell you why. His plan is to use the murder of little Harry to make the sixth Horcrux. I know what the five are, and where they are, but some of them will be hard to get."

"That's our mission, then, right?"

"It is," Harry confirmed. "I think we should tell the Order what we're up to. Dumbledore has at least suspected this for a long time, and he's been keeping it from them. We should be setting a better example."

Despite the trauma of the evening, Sirius snorted at this. "Can we call it a night, then?" he requested. "I'm pretty much spent."

Harry nodded. "Let's plan for a trip to Ollivander's in the morning," he suggested. "I'd like to see if my wand is there yet, and if it's not, I'll need to pick one up anyways. Do you think we can get an Order meeting together for the evening?"

Sirius looked at him, and decided that the question was sincere. "Yes, I think the Order will want to meet with you tomorrow. I think they would tear down the city of Cardiff if you didn't show up. Ollivander's is a good idea, though. We'll do that first thing."

That settled, Sirius transfigured the couch into a bed, and summoned some sheets out of the closet. Harry transfigured the robes James had made into pajamas, and turned out the lights. When Sirius was halfway out the door, Harry spoke.

"Sirius," he said, and Sirius stopped in the doorway. "It's really good to see you. I knew you before, of course, but you were so badly damaged by Azkaban. It's good to see the real you." Sirius smiled at him, and the two men went to bed.

Long habit woke Harry early, and he was rifling through Sirius' bachelor kitchen when Sirius himself emerged blearily from his room. "What are you doing?" he demanded, squinting against the light.

"Well, I was going to make some breakfast, but unless you like Firewhiskey and mustard omelets, hold the eggs, I think we might be out of luck," Harry replied.

Apparently Sirius' sense of humor hadn't woken up yet. "There's coffee over the stove. Make some. I'm taking a shower. We can grab breakfast in the Alley on the way to Ollivander's." And he shuffled out of the room without another word.

When he returned fifteen minutes later to find hot coffee waiting for him, he looked more like himself. Actually, to Harry he looked better than he ever had. They shared a cup of coffee in companionable quiet, and headed off to the public Floo in a nearby pub. Upon arriving in Diagon Alley, they found a small café and grabbed a corner table. Harry erected the requisite privacy charms so they could speak freely.

"So, Sirius," Harry inquired pleasantly as they sipped their third cups of coffee, "why aren't you doing everything you can to win the war?"

Sirius put down a forkful of eggs. "I beg your pardon," he said angrily. "I'm in the Auror training program and I've joined the Order. Exactly what else am I supposed to be doing to win the war?"

"I'm sorry," Harry said quickly, but Sirius did not appear mollified. "You're doing everything you can to defeat Voldemort, I know. But that's not really what the war's about, is it?"

"It's a pretty good start," Sirius said flatly.

"Look, who was the best student in your class at Hogwarts?" Harry asked, still keeping his tone reasonable.

"You know it was your mother," Sirius said. "And you know she can't even walk the Alley in safety today. Believe it or not, that's a big part of what I'm fighting for."

"She's still not my mother," Harry said with a frown. "But look, let's say I succeed tomorrow. Voldemort's dead, his lieutenants are in Azkaban, the Death Eaters are scattered to the four winds. What are Mrs. Potter's career options going to be?" Sirius looked at him questioningly. "Fast track to a responsible Ministry job? Start her own business? Are there even any Muggleborns teaching at Hogwarts? No, her talents will go to waste. This society is broken. It's ruled by a prejudiced few who think that…" but Sirius had raised a hand.

"Look, I get it. But we're facing a threat to our survival. You-Know-Who doesn't stick people in dead-end jobs. He kills them."

"Yes, but Voldemort is just the symptom here. It's the underlying prejudice of this society that makes the rise of Dark Lords inevitable. In a sane world, Voldemort would have been a lone lunatic who got taken out by the Aurors before he claimed his second victim."

Sirius sighed. "You know, I am on your side here. But what the hell do you want me to do about it?"

Harry smiled. "Sirius, what does the Black family stand for?

Sirius fairly snarled at him. "Everything you claim to be fighting against. Blood purity over all other concerns. A willingness to dig as deep into the Dark Arts as they possibly can, to defend the family's position. Utter contempt for justice. What is your point here?"

"Who's currently the head of the Black family?"

Sirius blinked. "I am, I guess, but I want nothing to do with them. I'd expel myself if I could."

"Why not use the power and resources they've amassed for your own purposes? Think what the Order could do with the Black vault. Think of the information on Dark curses hiding in your library, waiting for Order researchers to pick them apart. But most of all, think of the kind of shift of power it would mean if the Black family went Light. One more Light vote on the Wizengamot. One more wealthy Light family keeping the pressure on the goblins. A little more safety for the other purebloods who don't support Voldemort. Would the Davises switch sides if you did? The Greengrasses?"

"And I suppose you'd like me to start my own little dynasty of Light-sided warriors? Marry the next great Light witch that comes along?" Sirius replied hotly.

Harry looked at him quizzically. "I don't care if you marry Amelia Bones or the girl from the tea shop. Or Moony, if that's what you're so upset about."

"No!" Sirius shouted, then deflated a little. "Look, I know that's a strange thing to get hung up on. It's just—James is my best friend, right? He took me in when my family threw me out. But everybody – or everybody whose opinion I care about – seems to think I should be just like him. That's not what I want out of life. Not now, anyways."

Harry smiled. "From a purely strategic point of view, I think James has that angle covered anyways. Be the bachelor uncle. Be the cool one. If people see how much fun you're having, that'll probably change some minds right there." He paused for a moment, and Sirius looked at him, intrigued. "Where I came from, it was my generation that was going to have to change the world. We defeated Voldemort, and it was up to us to rebuild society after that. Here, it's going to be your job. I think you and the Potters could be the heart and soul of that group."

"Harry, your faith in me is appallingly misplaced. I couldn't rebuild a Gobstones club, let alone British magical society." Sirius was still looking down, but there was a smirk on his lips.

"Think about it, anyways. I'm sure there's some picking-up-birds angle I've failed to consider. If it helps, consider it a massive prank on the entire wizarding world."

Sirius' smirk deepened, but then he sighed. "All right, there's one more thing I'd like to get out of the way before the meeting tonight. You seemed pretty angry about Snape yesterday."

Harry grimaced. "That's another part of my gripe with Dumbledore. He let you run free for years, tormenting a fellow student who was poor and isolated in his house. You didn't exactly drive him into the arms of the Hufflepuffs, you know. He should have cut you off at the knees long before your pranking wars got out of control, but he was so thrilled that you, Sirius Black, seemed to be turning towards the light side that he let you get away with everything. Then you took it a step too far. You tried to murder Snape, in a way that would also have destroyed your best friend. How were you not expelled?" Sirius remained silent. "It just proved to Snape that there was no justice in the world. The only way he could protect himself was to side with someone even worse than you." Harry sighed. "Look, Snape made his choices, and I don't think I'd let him back into the fold. But the Headmaster failed him, and really, he failed you too. You're going to have to grow up on your own."

Sirius regarded him steadily. "You might be right that I should have been expelled. But when I was suspended, I had some time to think about what I'd almost done. I admit that I was more concerned about Moony at first, but I didn't like the idea that I'd almost killed Snape, either. And I just kept thinking: where was the turning point? Where should we have stopped? And I never could identify it. We went from being kids who didn't get along, to teenagers locked in a mortal battle. And look, the Marauders loved chaos, but we didn't want to be bullies. We wanted to give as good as we got, that's all. So how did that turn into a life-or-death struggle? I could never answer that."

Harry wasn't sure how to respond. The Sirius from Snape's memories still haunted him, and as with Dumbledore, the forgiveness that had come with Sirius' death had evaporated in the new universe he found himself in. But Sirius had shown unexpected depths as well, and the incident seemed to have marked him more deeply than Harry had ever known. Finally he decided that it wasn't his battle. "Talk it over with Moony and Prongs, if you haven't. And you're an Auror and an Order member. Make sure you know when to use lethal force." He sighed, feeling like he'd lectured Sirius enough for the day. "Let's drop it, anyways. What's done is done, and I'm not sure there's anything more we can say about it." Sirius agreed, and they finished their breakfasts without conversing further.

Their first stop was not Ollivander's, but Madame Malkin's. Sirius bought Harry a couple of sets of plain black robes and some other necessities, promising to send the bill to the Order. Harry considered outfitting himself for combat, but didn't want to draw attention to himself yet.

Ollivander was as bizarre as Harry remembered, but he was determined not to be intimidated. "Good morning, Mr. Ollivander," he practically chirped. "Do you have anything in a holly and phoenix feather?"

Ollivander stared, but Harry couldn't tell if he was rattled. "You are unexpected," he intoned, "and your request even more so. I regret that I cannot fill it."

Harry smiled widely. "Cannot, or will not?" he asked sweetly.

"I have no such wand for sale."

Harry understood that Ollivander wasn't going to answer his question, but he probably also wasn't going to sell him his wand, even if it was there. It might be just as well, he mused, since little Harry might need it someday. He spread his hands. "What can you recommend, then?"

The process of choosing a wand was fascinating for Harry. He'd had the opportunity to try out other wands, of course, but often in desperate situations. With the time to explore them more fully, he could feel the match between the wand and his magic in his fingers, and sometimes in his core. Even with a few brief waves, he found he could learn how to guide his magic through the channel the wand provided, and could produce sparks with almost every wand he tried. As with his first visit, he tried dozens of wands, but his patience never flagged (although Sirius started to look bored).

In the end, he narrowed the choice down to two wands. One was a short and narrow. It felt light in his hands, and siphoned magic from his core with the gentlest sip. "It's like it's not even there," Harry had said when he first tried it. Ollivander's face had tightened in what Harry thought was amusement, and he had said, "Balsa wood and demiguise hair. It's very much like it's not even there. Very…precise, that wand."

The other was short and thick, like a dirk in Harry's hand. But this one could channel huge amounts of power – Harry had produced a shower of sparks like a fire hydrant, but the display left him breathless. Ollivander's expression was sour when he explained, "Ironwood and augury feather. More like a blunderbuss than a wand."

"What do you think, Sirius?" Harry asked. "Finesse, or brute force?"

Sirius snorted. "If you were headed off to your seventh year at Hogwarts, I'd recommend finesse. But you're walking into a battle. Take the fat one."

Harry shook his head. "I'm not so sure," he said. "There's plenty of detail work to be done, and I don't plan on being in a fair fight if I can help it. I think I want the other one."

"Take the other one, then," Sirius sighed.

Harry furrowed his brow, trying to decide if Sirius was fed up with him for a good reason. He waved each wand a few more times, which only served to confirm his impressions. Then he handed the balsa wood wand over to Ollivander. "I'll take this one," he declared.

Ollivander wrapped it up. "Eight and an eighth inches," he said, "quite brittle. This wand will require special care."

"Do you have a holster that would work?" Harry asked, his original smile returning.

They returned to Sirius' flat to prepare for the Order meeting that evening. Sirius was uncharacteristically quiet, until finally Harry asked him what was wrong. Instead of getting angry, Sirius looked guilty. "It's ridiculous," he mumbled. Harry raised an eyebrow. Sirius looked down, then said, "I'm sure you know what you're getting into. But when we did the ritual, we imagined someone who would come in, bash through his shields, drop a ton of molten lava on his head, and boom, it's all over. Now you're buying a wand for fussy little charms, and we're going to go sneaking around looking for lost jewelry. This is going to be a lot of work, isn't it?"

Harry laughed. "It is. But it's worth it. We're going to win the war, not just the battle."


	3. Chapter 3

Harry kept his Occlumency shields fully raised and his wand arm ready as he and Sirius proceeded to Dumbledore's office. He didn't know what to expect from this version of Dumbledore, but he was ready for the Headmaster to be every bit as manipulative, and fifteen years less senile. They arrived a minute or two late by design, as Harry didn't want to risk being alone with Dumbledore.

Harry plastered a fake smile on his face through Dumbledore's greetings, and got his first good look at the rest of the Order of the Phoenix. It wasn't a terribly daunting group, at first look. McGonagall was there, and the Potters. Next to the Potters was Frank Longbottom, looking heartbreakingly young and animated. Harry recognized Elphias Doge and Dedalus Diggle. Arthur Weasley was absent, likely with his hands full of young redheads. A pair of frail-looking witches sat down at the end of the table, and walking in the door was Peter Pettigrew.

Harry's mind raced. Could it be possible that Dumbledore still trusted Pettigrew? Or did he want him to escape? He palmed his wand and checked the wards in the room, finding the expected anti-Apparition ward, and the anti-Portkey ward he hadn't been sure about. He didn't know if there was a ward to prevent the Animagus transformation, and Peter escaping in his rat form was certainly the biggest threat. He'd done it enough times before. Harry didn't want to risk launching a spell at him from a distance, in case he had some sort of device shielding him, but he didn't want to raise his suspicions by approaching too quickly.

So he broadened his grin to the cracking point, and went around the room introducing himself as Lex Luthor. He gave each wizard and witch a manic handshake, until he had worked his way around to Pettigrew. When he grasped the traitor's hand, he let fly a ridiculously overpowered silent stunner. Pettigrew slumped to the floor, and the Order leaped to their feet as one. Harry ignored the wands pointed his way, and cast a quick, loud Incarcerous, more to demonstrate that Peter was still alive than to prevent him from escaping. Then he put up a shimmering shield so bright that it obscured him, and faced the crowd.

"I told you two things yesterday," he boomed, and turned his gaze to the Potters. "What's the name of the newest Weasley?"

"Ginevra Molly," Lily answered, and the hint of pride on her face made Harry's heart lurch.

"Would somebody care to examine Peter's left forearm?" he continued. It was McGonagall who strode forward, with all the defiance he expected from her. She levitated Pettigrew, gently loosened the ropes around his arm, and rolled down his sleeve. The Dark Mark stood livid against his pale skin. McGonagall actually gasped and covered her mouth with both hands. Around the room, wand arms lowered, and Harry saw Dumbledore close his eyes briefly. He dropped his shield, and continued softly, "There's a traitor in the Order of the Phoenix."

Dumbledore stood. "Thank you, Mr. Luthor," he said, nodding dismissively at Harry. "He will be dealt with."

Harry wasn't about to let him take any of the initiative away. "How, and by who?" he asked sharply.

Dumbledore flared a little. "I will deal with him myself," he bit off.

"How?" Harry asked again. "Will you kick him out the back door with a go-forth-and-sin-no-more? Obliviate him thoroughly and dump him in Siberia? Dig a shallow grave in the Forbidden Forest?" He gave Dumbledore half a second to reply, then pressed on. "It seems to me that his very presence calls your leadership into question. Why should you be the one to deal with him?"

The room grew tense as Harry and Dumbledore stood, gazes locked. Harry braced himself for a Legillimency assault, but it never came. 'Dumbledore must be too angry,' Harry thought. It was Frank Longbottom who broke the standoff. He stood up, and the set of his shoulders reminded Harry of Neville at his best.

"I'll take him in to the DMLE," he volunteered. "I'm a pretty fair hand at Obliviation. I'll get rid of the Order's secrets, and once he sees the Mark, Crouch will put him in Azkaban."

Harry plucked Pettigrew's wand from his robes and handed it to Frank. "See if there's anything incriminating on that." He cast an apologetic glance towards Sirius and James. "Oh, and you should know this: he's an Animagus, and his form is a rat. He can get out of just about any cage, and the Dementors won't affect him as much. If I were you, I'd dose him with Draught of the Living Death and push him through the Veil. But whatever you do, don't underestimate him."

Frank raised his eyebrows. "Good to know," he said. "All right, let's take a team of four. Headmaster, can you seal a room while we interview and Obliviate?"

Dumbledore nodded, and added, "I will be on the team that interviews him."

Frank glanced at Harry, and when he didn't object, nodded. "Other volunteers?" he asked.

James and Sirius exchanged a look, and James stood. Elphias Doge joined him, and the four of them went to leave. Harry pulled Frank aside before they could go. "Longbottom," he said quietly, "don't put yourself at risk, and don't lose him, but it would be very useful to know how much he told Voldemort about me. Pettigrew is dangerous—not powerful, but very tricky. Assume anything on his person could be a Portkey. I'd keep him levitated – that way, if he does manage a transformation, he can't run away."

Frank gave him a sympathetic look. "The Auror Corps where you come from is in pretty bad shape, I gather?"

Harry swallowed. "Sorry," he said. "A pleasure to be working with a professional. One more thing: keep a shield up. I wouldn't put it past Dumbledore to try to Obliviate everyone in the room."

Frank raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment further. He drew his wand, levitating the unconscious Pettigrew, and Dumbledore led the team out the door. Harry watched them go with mixed feelings. He wanted to help with the interview, and prevent Dumbledore from doing anything untoward. But he'd had enough of Pettigrew for several lifetimes, and he felt like the Order had to be able to stand on their own for minor tasks. No, better to leave it to them.

He sat down next to Sirius, and looked around the table, taking in the still-shocked faces of the dozen remaining members. "Hi," he said brightly. "I'm Lex Luthor, or at least that's the ridiculous pseudonym I'll be using here. I think I'm actually related to Potter, but it's not really clear how closely." He didn't feel even slightly bad for the lie. "I'll be taking care of your Voldemort problem. We should probably wait for the interview team to come back before we start the meeting for real, but can you give me some idea of what our assets are?"

Everybody stared at him, and he sighed. "OK, here's what I've figured out on my own. Longbottom and Moody are your link to the Aurors. Law enforcement is at least nominally helpful – they'll keep prisoners in prison, for example. Dumbledore and McGonagall here are your Hogwarts representatives, which is less useful than it might seem. Weasley is a Ministry employee, but not a terribly influential one. Right so far?"

Sirius and Lily nodded and McGonagall gave him a sour look, but he wasn't sure anybody else was even following along. "So," he continued, "do we have any link to the Wizengamot, or to the higher-ups in the DMLE? Do we have an ally in the goblins, or the house-elves? Do we have any money? This group looks like it couldn't handle a pitched battle with more than a couple of Death Eaters – do you have any combat experience, or are you in training?"

Sirius shook his head. "Dumbledore is on the Wizengamot. We don't have any members in the DMLE, but Crouch and Bones are trustworthy. If we're lucky, the goblins will stay the hell out of this war, and I don't even begin to understand why you're asking about house-elves. This group is made up of volunteers, and we're spending our own money. And we've lost most of our battle-ready members, which is why we called for you in the first place."

Harry looked down. "Forgive me for opening wounds. I don't really know very much about your membership, but I think you're talking about more than just Moody. The Prewetts?" he asked. Heads nodded. "Meadows?" More nods. "The Bones you mentioned before was Amelia, I assume. Edgar?" Another round of nods, and Harry noticed that shoulders were slumping around the table. He tried to rally the Order. "I know you've lost a lot of people, and it looks bad. But we're going to win. I can and will kill Voldemort. And you can't imagine what a relief it's going to be to have a competent Auror force dealing with the Death Eaters." People looked up, but the mood was still somber.

"I asked about the goblins because they would be powerful allies. They're an intelligent race, magically powerful, fierce warriors, and they control wizarding finances. They have a healthy suspicion of wizards, it's true, but they also have a strict code of honor and justice. They would be powerful allies, and it's to our advantage to cultivate them as quickly as possible. Is Professor Flitwick a member?"

McGonagall narrowed her eyes. "He's not a full member, but he has helped out on occasion. But the rumors that he has some goblin blood are vicious lies," she growled.

Harry nodded mildly, but internally he was disappointed in her reaction. "I asked about house-elves," he continued, "because I think you underestimate them as well. Again, they're an intelligent, magically powerful race. Many of them belong to Death Eaters, and are likely abused, so they hold a grudge against our enemies. And I once saw an angry house-elf throw Lucius Malfoy down a flight of stairs without a wand."

A few people looked impressed, but Sirius snorted. "Lucius Malfoy is a useless ponce who doesn't know which end of his wand the bright lights come out of."

Harry couldn't stifle his own laugh. "I don't know if that's entirely true; he was a vicious dueler when I fought him. But he's also an extremely proud man. Can you imagine him letting himself be bested by a house-elf if he had any choice?" Sirius relented with a grumble, and Harry wondered if he was angrier about losing his cousin Narcissa to Malfoy than he had let on.

"All right," Harry said, trying to regroup. "We have no significant influence in government, but at least the government's on our side. We have no money and no allies. Our base is an office in a school. Our longtime leader is powerful, but his competence and morals are questionable. It sounds like our best tactic is to kill Voldemort sooner, rather than later, but that's easier said than done. Tell me about the members of the Wizengamot."

McGonagall and the two older witches started discussing the balance of power in the wizarding political body, shooting Harry the occasional dark look. From what he understood, a small majority was in favor of the current vigorous tactics used against Death Eaters, but it was impossible to get them to increase funding, and they were very leery of any measure that seemed to reduce the power of the old families that ran the country. Harry settled back and let them talk, not concerning himself too much with the details.

After a shorter time than Harry had expected, the interrogation team returned, without Peter. Harry looked at Frank. "How did it go?" he asked tersely.

Frank stuck out his jaw. "Not too badly. He told Voldemort that the Order was considering the ritual, but he didn't even know it had been performed. He knows nothing about you. Voldemort knows that everybody else here is a member, of course. We Obliviated him pretty thoroughly and turned him over to the Aurors. The Mark will be enough to send him to Azkaban until this is over."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I told you, Azkaban doesn't affect Animaguses in the same way," he objected.

Frank grimaced. "I know he's an Animagus, and you know he's an Animagus, but Peter doesn't know he's an Animagus. The Headmaster did that bit of Obliviation." Harry grimaced back. That was an awful lot of damage to do to somebody's mind. No need to cry for Peter, though.

"Now," Dumbledore said, re-establishing control over the meeting, "after that dramatic beginning, I know that many of us will have questions for our guest. Mr. Luthor, are you willing to discuss your personal history?"

Before Harry could answer, he felt the lightest touch of Legillimency brush against his shields. He strengthened them a little, still trying not to give away his actual strength, and gave a cold smile. "Pardon me, Headmaster," he said politely, "but I prefer to keep my thoughts private. Is involuntary mindreading part of the price you pay to join the Order?" He didn't stop to see if the question had scored points with anybody. "And 'guest' is an awfully polite term for somebody you've ripped from their home and put in the firing line of a Dark Lord. Perhaps 'victim' or 'prisoner' fits better?"

That definitely caused some disquiet among the Order, but none of them were willing to address him directly. Dumbledore frowned. "I must ask you again, are you willing to discuss your past?"

"Of course," Harry answered, "but I doubt you'll be satisfied until you've seen into my head. I propose a compromise: you have a powerful, neutral magical artifact designed to see into people's minds. If I allow the Sorting Hat to interview me, will you stop trying to read my mind?"

"This hardly fits with the Sorting Hat's purpose," Dumbledore grumbled.

Harry nodded, and turned to address to Order. "If he tries to get into my head again, you will be the first in a long time to see what a Legillimency battle between two very powerful wizards looks like. I'm sure Sirius would be willing to take bets on which, if either, of us will be capable of speaking in complete sentences after it ends."

Sirius raised his hands in protest, but everybody was looking at Dumbledore. The old man sighed. "I fail to understand your combative approach, Mr. Luthor," he said.

Harry raised his voice. "You fail to understand-" he said incredulously, then caught himself. "Just try to see this from my perspective. You dragged me here against my will to do something incredibly dangerous. I've said that I'm willing to do it for you, I've already started to work with your organization, and I haven't made any outrageous demands. But you refuse to trust me. I am not your weapon, and I refuse to let you treat me that way. So here's my first outrageous demand: I demand to be treated like a human being. And to me, that means I have the right to defend myself from attacks, mental or physical."

"You are not under attack here, Mr. Luthor. The Order simply needs a reason to establish its trust in you," Dumbledore said, more calmly than Harry had expected.

"Trust is a two-way street," Harry snapped. "You lost mine when you attempted to enter my mind without permission. It's the Hat or nothing." When Dumbledore was silent, he added in a softer tone, "We're on the same side here. I don't want to split the Light over this."

Without a word, Dumbledore stood and retrieved the Sorting Hat. Harry placed it on his head, pulling the brim down over his eyes so he could concentrate on the Hat alone. 'Hello, Hat,' he thought. 'Can we chat for a minute?'

He felt the Hat's astonishment more clearly than last time, and quickly tried to reassure it. 'You don't have to sort me or anything,' he thought. 'You just need to reassure the Order that I'm not some kind of rising Dark Lord, and maybe verify some of my past, uh, adventures. Nothing too personal, please.'

The Hat chuckled. 'Mind if I have a look around?' it asked. When Harry dropped his shields, the Hat made its way through his memories. 'That was fascinating,' it said finally. 'Thank you for letting me see that. But we may have a problem.'

'What's that?' Harry asked, immediately on his guard.

'The Sword of Gryffindor is for the defense of Hogwarts. Defending the whole world isn't quite the same thing. Unless you're a student, or have some formal role here at the school, I can't give it to you.'

Harry rocked backwards. 'Fair enough,' he thought finally. 'It's a useful tool, but not a necessary one. If Voldemort invades the school, we'll talk again, but I won't rely on the sword.'

'Thank you for understanding, Mr. Potter. I'm ready now.'

'One more request, Hat. Can you try not to let this affect your sorting of little Harry, when he gets here? It's hardly fair to him.'

'Quite thoughtful of you. Until we meet again, then.' And Harry felt the Hat leave his mind. He took it off and placed it on the table, and the members of the Order leaned forward to hear its verdict.

"He is what he says he is," pronounced the Hat aloud. "He's killed Voldemort twice, once with a sword and once with a spell. He's had a hard time of it, but he's no revenge-driven madman, and he's certainly not Dark Lord material. I've sorted him into Gryffindor and into Slytherin, but if I had to choose now, I'd put him in Hufflepuff."

The look of surprise on Harry's face was quite comical indeed, but only Sirius dared to laugh.

Dumbledore looked beatific. "Thank you, Hat," he said, and Harry found the note of triumph in his voice a little worrying. "Mr. Luthor, thank you for your cooperation. I believe we have accomplished our task for the evening. Might I suggest that we end the formal portion of our meeting now?"

Harry raised a hand. "I'd like to discuss how we're going to defeat Voldemort. Do we have time for that?"

Dumbledore frowned. "Surely the hour is late for matters of strategy," he said.

Harry frowned. "I don't understand why you're objecting, but I can keep it brief, if you like." As others around the table muttered and nodded in support, he leaned forward. "OK, what I'm going to discuss here is of vital importance. If Voldemort even suspected that this was known, it would be incredibly dangerous, and make our task almost impossible. So first of all, anybody who doesn't want to be involved at this level should leave." He paused, and the two elderly witches in the corner stood.

"Good night," one of them said, and they left the room.

"Anybody else?" Nobody moved. "Very well. Second, I'd like to request an oath of silence on this matter."

"If I may," Dumbledore interrupted. "Perhaps a specialized charm to protect this secret would be appropriate?"

Harry smiled. "You're thinking of the Fidelius?" he asked.

Dumbledore raised his left eyebrow a sixteenth of an inch. "Indeed."

Harry nodded. "I think that's a good choice for this situation. I am willing to be the Secret Keeper, since I already know the secret." He expected an objection, but got none from Dumbledore. "How does this work? I've seen the Fidelius protecting property, but I've never seen it cast."

"We must do this in private. You will explain the nature of the secret to me, and I will cast the first part of the charm. After that, the Secret Keeper must cast the second part of the charm. Let me show you." And he demonstrated the wand movement, and taught Harry the incantation.

When Harry felt confident, he stood, and allowed Dumbledore to lead him to an antechamber off his office. Once they were alone, Dumbledore looked at him with disappointment written all over his face. "Mr. Luthor, I will work for you, for the greater good of this world. But I am uncomfortable with your methods, and I find you hard to trust," he said.

Harry sighed. "I didn't come here to explain myself to you. I find you hard to trust as well, and I'm not thrilled with your methods. And, in fact, when you talk about the greater good it makes my skin crawl. So I don't really know how to reassure you."

Dumbledore looked mournful, though Harry had a hard time believing it was genuine. "I cannot imagine what my counterparts in other worlds must have resorted to," he said.

Harry's voice turned sharp. "I think you can imagine, actually. I think you spend your whole life imagining what you would have to do for the greater good, in the worst-case scenario. But again, that's not what we're here for today. Can we just perform this charm?"

Dumbledore dipped his head, and began a long incantation with a repetitive series of wand motions. After more than a minute, he stopped, and gestured to Harry.

"The secret concerns the state and location of Voldemort's soul," Harry said carefully. When Dumbledore nodded, he performed his part of the charm. Dumbledore led him back to the main room.

"OK, everybody, last chance. This is a big secret, one that Voldemort would certainly kill for. The charm provides you with some protection, in that you can't accidentally tell anybody. But you also can't intentionally tell somebody, even if they're torturing you at the time. Everybody in?" Harry looked around the room, and was pleased to see determination on the faces around him.

"Voldemort has split his soul into several pieces. He has used Dark rituals to store the pieces in objects, called Horcruxes. As long as the Horcruxes exist, they anchor his spirit to this world, and he can't be truly killed. So our highest priority is to find and destroy the Horcruxes. Fortunately, I know where they are, and three of them will be easy to retrieve. The last two, however, will pose a major challenge." Everybody looked shocked, even Dumbledore.

Sirius spoke first. "We're up against an immortal Dark Lord, then. I'm not sure I've said this before, but I'm really glad you're here."

Harry smiled at him, but Lily had a question. "Is he really immortal? What exactly happens if you kill him?"

"Funny you should ask," Harry said. "If he were to be, say, hit by a rebounding Killing Curse, his body would be destroyed. But his spirit would remain bound to the world by the Horcruxes, instead of passing on to, uh, wherever bad spirits go. It would be able to move itself, and to possess animals and willing humans, but it would take a complex ritual to return it to a new body."

"Why not use his own trick against him, then?" she asked. When Harry furrowed his brow, she explained, "Trap his spirit. Force it into an object or something. Then we can end his reign of terror, and find and destroy the Horcruxes at our leisure."

Harry's eyes widened. "That is absolutely brilliant," he said. "Mrs. Potter, you're in charge of the research team. Figure out if this is possible and how to do it. Spare no expense. You may have shortened this war and saved countless lives."

* * *

><p>That night at Sirius' flat, Harry and Sirius were too excited to sleep. Harry had seen the war play out twice, and both times he had destroyed all of the Horcruxes before facing Voldemort. The idea of facing Voldemort first buoyed his spirits and kept him awake. "Do we know where he is?" he demanded of Sirius.<p>

"No idea," Sirius said.

"Can we find him?"

"Not easily."

Harry was undaunted. "Well, once we do, I can beat him. Do we have enough support from the Aurors to take on the Death Eaters?"

"Probably not."

"But Lily's going to figure this out, right?"

Sirius finally gave him a half-smile. "If anyone can, it's her. It'll be interesting to see what kind of team she puts together, and how literally she takes your word about sparing expenses."

"I don't care what it costs. If we can end this war without having to break into Gringotts and Malfoy Manor, it's worth it. Sirius' face fell. "Did I not mention that? That's where the two hard-to-find Horcruxes are."

Sirius groaned. "That's actually pretty bad news. This all hinges on Lily, you realize."

Harry smiled. "Who better?" And Sirius had to agree.


	4. Chapter 4

Every chapter of this story has been to Heart of Spellz for quick, reliable beta work. But she rescued this chapter in particular from a fiery death.

* * *

><p>Harry and Sirius had breakfast in a cheery café in Cardiff, instead of trekking to the Alley. The waitress recognized Sirius on the way in, so Harry assumed his empty kitchen was the normal state of affairs. As they munched on toast, Sirius gave Harry a serious look. "I've been thinking about what you said," he said, "and you're right. I should take the headship of the Black family, and the seat on the Wizengamot as well."<p>

Harry smiled. "That's a big step, but I think it'll make a difference."

Sirius frowned. "I'm not thrilled about it. I'm glad you're here to help, anyways. So I guess the first step is to go talk to the goblins. Gringotts this morning?"

Now it was Harry's turn to frown. "I can't go to Gringotts. I swore an oath, and I can't run the risk of breaking it. Besides which, I'm pretty much useless at this stuff. I never had any help or training or anything. The only time I ever spoke to the Wizengamot, I'd been hauled in front of them for a trial."

"That's just great," Sirius said, and Harry found himself a little surprised at his sharp tone. "I'll just go ask Narcissa to help me out, then, shall I?"

"Yes, I guess that would be best. If only you had a friend who was also the last of his line. Someone who'd been trained from birth to take his place in the family. Someone who opposed Voldemort just as strongly as you."

Sirius dipped his head. "You think I should ask Frank?"

"Frank?" Harry said, startled. "I was thinking of James, but Frank could probably help."

"James?" Sirius snorted. "The Potters don't have a Wizengamot seat or anything. I mean, I guess they're wealthy enough, but they're really from the merchant class, not the land owners. Sort of a more respectable version of the Weasleys. James would be about as much help as Peter."

"I had no idea," Harry admitted. "In my world, you made me head of the Black family when you died, but I never really had a chance to figure out what that meant." A thought struck him. "I didn't leave a will or anything. I wonder if the Black line goes extinct, or if it goes to Draco or something? I knew leaving him alive was a mistake." Something had flashed across Sirius' face when Harry talked about the Black line going extinct, but it was gone before Harry could identify it.

"You know, it is a little creepy to hear you talk about killing people, especially when they're just babies."

"Draco was a thorn in my side from day one," Harry said. "He wasn't even really all that evil, but he was raised exactly how you'd imagine Lucius and Narcissa would raise their kid. Now that you mention killing people, I wonder if wiping them out would mean he could be brought up by someone who didn't want to turn him into an egotistical psychopath." Sirius stared at him as if to gauge his sincerity, and Harry smiled wryly. "All right, I won't talk about killing people any more. Except Voldemort. That's definitely still on the agenda."

"All right. We should talk to Frank soon, though. I have to go back to school soon," Sirius said.

Harry smirked. "Merlin, how old were my parents when I was born? Or did you get held back a year?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Auror Academy. I mentioned that, right? We get August off, and then I'm back for my final year."

"And Frank's a couple of years older?"

"He was Head Boy my third year. He's been on the force for a couple of years already."

Harry nodded. "You're right. You should talk to him as soon as he's off duty. You've got a lot to learn."

Sirius glared at Harry, but said only, "Let me make a Floo call. I think he's on night shifts right now. He might still be up."

* * *

><p>With Sirius and Frank at Gringotts for the day, Harry found himself at loose ends. He didn't want to make a huge shopping trip, since he was pretty sure he wouldn't be around to enjoy what he bought. But he could think of a few small things that would make his task easier. With that in mind, he Flooed to Diagon Alley and went into Madame Malkin's.<p>

The store was quiet, and Madame Malkin herself was the only one working. When Harry asked her if she sold the velvet silk bags that were so effective for handling Horcruxes, she shook her head. "I don't keep velvet silk in stock, and it's no small task to make it. With the school rush coming up, I won't have time this summer," she explained.

Harry frowned, and didn't leave the store right away. Madame Malkin eyed him for a moment, then sighed. "There's a new seamstress in town. She's a young thing, not much experience, but she has some skill, and she'll take custom jobs like this. You'll find her shop down at the far end of the alley – her name is Amy Radford."

Harry thanked her sincerely, and promised to come back for some everyday robes when he had time. After some searching, he found the sign for "Amy Radford, Seamstress" in the unfashionable part of the alley, at a door which led to a narrow flight of stairs. He followed the stairs up to an unmarked door, touched his wand for reassurance, and knocked.

"Coming, coming!" a pleasant voice assured him. The door swung open after a long moment, and Harry found himself face to face with a girl not much older than him. She was shorter than him by a fair amount, with short black hair. She had a small, pixie-like face, with slender shoulders, and the dress she was wearing showed her willowy figure to great advantage. Harry realized that he was staring, but she was too startled to notice.

"James?" she said, then realized that it wasn't him. "No, I'm sorry. But you must be his cousin or something."

"Something like that," Harry agreed breezily, forcing his eyes up to her face. The view there was pretty nice as well, he had to admit. "You must be Madam Radford?"

She pouted at him. "Don't even think of calling me that. I'm Amy Radford, yes." She extended her hand a short distance.

Harry took it almost hesitantly, but she apparently meant no mischief, and gave him a nice firm handshake. Then he realized he hadn't introduced himself. "Oh! Uh, I'm Lex Luthor. Not a Potter at all." For some reason the lie didn't come out as easily this time. "It's nice to meet you, Ms. Radford." He thought maybe he'd been shaking her hand for too long, so he dropped it abruptly.

She gave him another pout, but this one held some amusement. "Better," she said, "but you can call me Amy. I was in Gryffindor, a year ahead of your cousin-or-whatever James."

Harry smiled, and hoped it looked genuine. "Amy, then. Call me Lex."

She returned his smile, and nodded. After a few moments of silence, she asked, "So, Lex, what can I help you with?"

Harry touched his forehead. "Right. I have a special order, and Madam Malkin said you might be able to help. I need half a dozen velvet silk bags, about this big," he said, holding his hands less than a foot apart. "Style's not important, but I need them to close up nice and tight."

"Dealing with cursed objects?" she asked, but when Harry raised an eyebrow, she lowered her eyes. "Sorry. None of my business, I know."

Harry smiled again. "No, no, it's OK. I'm not going to use them to deliver cursed items to unsuspecting innocents, if that's what you're worried about. I need to retrieve and destroy a few things, and the curses on them are pretty Dark. I just want to be able to transport them safely."

"'Unsuspecting innocents?'" she repeated, raising an eyebrow. "I don't know, that's pretty much prime Dark Lord material right there." Harry opened his mouth to object, but she was laughing. "I can do it," she assured him. "How soon do you need them?"

Harry tried to glare at her, but couldn't muster any heat. "Sooner's better," he said. "I'd be willing to pay a little extra to have them quickly."

She nodded, businesslike. "Normally, I'd charge a galleon and twelve sickles per bag. With a rush order fee, I could have them to you by Monday for twelve galleons."

"That would be great," Harry said. "Thank you."

She smiled at him, and he found himself staring again. "I look forward to seeing you again, Lex."

She extended her hand to him again, for what Harry thought must be a farewell shake, so he tried to outdo her. He raised her hand towards his lips, daring her to object. When she didn't, he brushed his lips against her knuckles, bowed, and fled from the room.

* * *

><p>Sirius arrived home late that night, looking tired and out of sorts. The Chinese takeaway on the table seemed to cheer him up, though, and he demolished three quarters of a container of Kung Pao chicken before he even looked at Harry. "So," he said guiltily, "how was your day?"<p>

"At least a little bit productive, I think. I ordered some bags that we can use to carry certain cursed items around." Harry paused. "Uh, did you know an Amy Radford in school?"

Sirius grinned. "Yes, Miss Radford. I'd heard she had a seamstress shop, but I haven't been to visit it yet. Gryffindor, a year ahead of me. She was an absolute demon in the Transfiguration classroom." Harry dropped his jaw, but Sirius continued blithely, "I never found out what she was like in a broom closet, though. She only had eyes for James, and of course he never paused in his pursuit of Lily. How's she doing?"

It took Harry a moment to regain his footing. "Well, she can make the bags for me. And she was quite friendly. Or I was, maybe. Uh, she seemed to be doing well."

Sirius eyed him. "You know, you do bear a certain resemblance to James. How friendly was she?"

Harry put his head in his hands. "You know, my whole life Snape hated me for looking like James, but this might be worse."

Sirius frowned. "Harry, she's a girl. A nice girl. And apparently she was flirting with you?" Harry nodded miserably. "You don't have to drag her back to the Leaky Cauldron and do unspeakable things with her, but how exactly is she worse than Snape?"

Harry sighed. "OK, maybe that's not fair. She did seem nice. But I'm pretty sure I don't get to go out with the nice girl. I'm pretty sure I get to kill the bad guy, and if I survive, I get to do it again. And that's setting aside the whole idea of using the fact that I look like my father to meet women."

Sirius nodded sympathetically. "A questionable tactic to be sure, but as long as you stay away from Lily, I think it's allowable. As for the other part, maybe you should put off killing the bad guy until you've had time to enjoy life a little."

Harry shook his head. "I can't do it, Padfoot," he said. "I couldn't stand the idea of Voldemort killing innocent people while I'm out drinking wine with a girl. Not even if she's a nice girl."

"Hey, watch it with the 'Padfoot' comments there. You are addressing the head of the Black family, owner of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, and Steward of the Black family vaults," Sirius said, his expression solemn.

"Sirius! That's fantastic! Much better than buying some accessories. How hard was it?"

Sirius grimaced. "Well, I'm glad Frank was there. And I had to sign more documents with a Blood Quill than I would have liked. But it actually went pretty smoothly. There's really nobody else with a stronger claim, and old Orion never got around to formally disinheriting me."

"Did you visit the house yet?" Harry asked.

"Work, work, work," Sirius said, waving his hand. "Tonight, I am going out with James and Remus to get spectacularly drunk and mourn Peter. We'll go in the morning. Or better make it the afternoon."

Harry was chagrined that he'd overlooked how deep Peter's betrayal must have cut the other Marauders. He noticed that he hadn't been invited along, but couldn't really bring himself to feel put out about it. They hardly knew him, after all. So he simply nodded, and said, "I won't wait up."

"Got a job for you, actually, if you wouldn't mind. Could you go provide some extra security at the Potters' place?"

"Um. I was really trying to avoid spending too much time with them. And wouldn't seeing little Harry cause some kind of temporal paradox?" Harry said nervously.

Sirius gave him a look. "Are you a time traveler? No? No temporal paradox, then. You can hide in the bushes if you don't want to talk to Lily."

Harry was about to argue more when a thought struck him. "Sirius, are you trying to get rid of me?"

"Am I—what?"

"You are! You're going to go out, get spectacularly drunk, mourn your traitorous friend, and come home with a girl."

Sirius appeared to think for a moment, then nodded. "Could happen."

"I don't even know what to say to that."

"You've already been keyed into the Potters' wards. I'll Floo you over there myself in half an hour."

Harry sighed. "OK, OK. Better you than James."

"Don't even joke about that," Sirius said, eyes wide. "Lily would feed you to the squirrels."

* * *

><p>Harry sat uncomfortably on the Potters' couch, in the cottage in Godric's Hollow. Little Harry was mercifully asleep upstairs, and had been since before he arrived. He examined the living room, comparing the homey, slightly chaotic room with the ruins in his memories. His gaze fell on his mother, who was reading what appeared to be a Charms journal. 'No,' he reminded himself, 'definitely not my mother.' But the longing he had felt for his mother his whole life was both heightened and soothed by her presence.<p>

She felt his gaze, and looked up without saying anything. "I'm sorry," he said immediately. "I'm bad company, I know." She remained silent, and he felt obligated to try to explain. "It's hard enough to see you, you know. I never knew my parents, and to see you in the flesh—everything that went wrong in my life, it all started when they were killed. And that's bad enough, but for it to be here is just too much. They kept the place as a memorial, so I stumbled in here when I was 17, still hunting Voldemort and still desperate, and it looked like the fight had been yesterday. It was a wreck, and it was easy enough to see where they were killed. I've never seen it looking like this, like it was just a family home. It's just one more thing I missed out on."

She bit her lip. "Are you so very angry at them?" she asked softly.

He recoiled. "Never. I know they loved me, and they tried to protect me, and they did save my life. Nothing that happened after that was their fault. Did I—do I seem angry?"

She looked relieved. "Not angry, exactly," she explained. "More like somebody who was wronged. Righteously indignant. I just—you know if I had to make the same choice your Lily did, I'd do the same thing. I'd die for the Harry who's sleeping upstairs right now. But is it the wrong thing to do?"

Harry took a deep breath. "I don't have any kids, and maybe I never will. But I hope that I would do the same thing, too. I don't know how any parent could do anything else, really." He smiled bitterly. "I guess my view of parenthood is a little off, since I spent my whole life idealizing my mother and despising her sister."

"Hence the righteous indignation."

He looked at her seriously. "I guess I am a little indignant over what happened to me. They locked me in the bloody cupboard for a decade, after all. But I'm just as upset over what happened to my parents." He paused to form the idea more completely. "They should have been hailed as martyrs and saviors. There should have been a Lily Potter Memorial Scholarship for the Muggleborn witch who earned the most OWLs, and a James Potter Fund for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. They should have been the shining example for everyone who faced evil. But they were forgotten. Everybody focused on me, and what I was meant to have done to defeat Voldemort."

She sighed. "The magical world is just as fickle as the Muggle world, that's all."

He shook his head. "No, it's worse than that," he said. "They forgot about my parents because they didn't fit their idea of a hero. The Muggleborn witch and the blood-traitor wizard could never have saved them. It had to be the prophesized little boy. And the whole stupid society just fell back into the same prejudices that got them in trouble in the first place." He looked intently at her. "My mother saved the world by sacrificing herself. I'm not going to let that happen to you. But you might have to save the world by forcing it to get past its own stupidity, and dragging it into the twentieth century."

To his surprise, she looked heartbroken. "What's wrong?" he asked, leaning forward.

She blinked rapidly. "It's hard to see you, too, you know. Especially when you're like this. Harry's just a baby, and honestly he keeps me so busy that I hardly have time to daydream about his future. And then you show up, full of confidence and incredibly powerful, and with this innate sense of justice that I can't help but admire. You're everything I could have hoped for in a son. It's just awful to know that I had nothing to do with it, that you grew up like this without Lily being there to love you and teach you."

Harry found his eyes stinging as well. "I don't think we'll solve the nature versus nurture debate here tonight. But the way that everybody in the world seemed to admire her was a big inspiration for me, even without her being there. Sweet Merlin, do you know what Rubeus Hagrid thinks of you?"

She pushed a brittle smile onto her face. "I can imagine. And he's not shy about sharing, is he?"

Harry snorted back a sob, and nodded his agreement. "I'm serious, though," he said. "Lily saved the world, and I just figured it was my job, too."

She winced. "I'm not sure I can live up to my own example. I mean, I just want to raise my son in peace."

Harry gave her a heartfelt smile. "I think you want to raise your son in a peaceful world, which is a little different. But imagine the kind of leader you could be. Once we get rid of Dumbledore, there might be room for a Muggleborn professor at Hogwarts. Filius does a great job with Charms, but have you thought about what you could do with the Muggle Studies curriculum? Or History of Magic, for that matter?"

"You're serious about Dumbledore, aren't you?" When he nodded, she continued, "It's hard to think of him that way. He's been such a great leader for so long. Losing him would be the biggest blow to the Light that I can imagine."

Harry sighed. He really wanted to convince this Lily that Dumbledore's judgment, if not his intentions, was highly suspect. But he also felt like he could lose her trust if he pushed too hard. "Think of it this way," he said. "Dumbledore's been the headmaster for twenty-five years or so now. Has he done anything to prevent Hogwarts from turning out Death Eaters by the dozen? Did he even protect the Muggleborn students from them? Or is Hogwarts just like the rest of the wizarding world?"

"It wasn't a battlefield," she said slowly, "but the Death Eater influence in Hogwarts was strong."

"He's supposed to be this great champion of Muggleborns, but I can't really think of anything he did to make their lives easier. Or any other oppressed group. Remember, I went to Hogwarts knowing nothing about magic, and there wasn't exactly a new wizard orientation for me."

"Without him, I doubt I would have been able to go to Hogwarts," she countered. "I know Remus wouldn't have."

"You're right about Remus," Harry agreed, "but Dumbledore didn't exactly make it easy on him. He had to hide what he was, and he didn't exactly get any help. His roommates figured it out his first year."

"They would have had him executed!"

"Right, so he put Remus in mortal danger by letting him into Hogwarts. Did Remus' adventures in Hogwarts do anything to advance the status of werewolves?"

She looked unwilling to concede the point. "And what about me?" she asked.

"Even for you, I think he could have done so much more. How many of your Muggleborn classmates are doing well in the wizarding world? I saw that Amy Radford has opened her own shop. Can any Muggleborn say the same?"

"Look, it's not all Dumbledore's fault."

"It's not, you're right. But the prejudices that rule this society are getting reinforced in Hogwarts. Is Muggle Studies a hundred years behind the times now, or is it only eighty-five? How are wizards supposed to understand the Muggle world when that's their only exposure?"

She sighed. "I guess you have a point."

"Just think about it," he begged. "When Dumbledore makes a suggestion, don't assume he's got your best interests at heart."

She nodded, then changed the subject. "When did you see Amy Radford?"

Harry flushed, and immediately hated himself for it. "I needed some velvet silk bags for our little project, so I asked around. Madam Malkin recommended her shop."

Lily smiled. "I always sort of admired her. She never liked me, of course, because of James. And it was funny—I spent the first six years at Hogwarts hoping she'd get him out of my hair, and my last year eternally grateful that she hadn't."

"She seemed nice enough. And she was very helpful."

"Friendly enough, too?" Harry glared at her, and she smiled. "All right, I won't pry. I hope that Sirius isn't too much of a bad influence on you, but if you're blushing and glowering, I don't suppose you're following in his paw tracks."

Harry relaxed a little. "You know, the only good part about growing up a neglected orphan was that my parents couldn't tease me about girls. Although I suppose Hermione had that part covered pretty well."

* * *

><p>Harry spent the night on the couch. James was clumsy enough to wake him coming down the path, long before he tripped the warning wards that Harry had set up. Fortunately, he was also coherent enough to give the passcode they had established, so Harry didn't have to hex him.<p>

When Harry returned to Cardiff at lunchtime, Sirius was alone, and there was no sign that he'd had company.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry didn't want to retrieve the Horcrux from Grimmauld Place until he had a bag to safely store it in, so he and Sirius wound up delaying their visit. Rather uncharacteristically, Sirius spent the weekend at the Ministry, researching some point or other of family law. Harry was content to let him do his own preparation for taking his seat on the Wizengamot, and spent the days deep in the Forbidden Forest, practicing with his new wand. He even spent a few hours under a massive Notice-Me-Not charm working on his Animagus transformation. It was still a bit rough, but he felt like he could reliably become the Hungarian Horntail, given enough time to get ready.

When Monday dawned, Harry was acutely aware that he was due to visit Amy again. With Sirius somewhere in the bowels of the Ministry, he had nobody to distract him from the upcoming visit. When would it be polite to go? Surely when she said the bags would be ready Monday, she meant the end of the day. It would be rude to show up first thing in the morning, demanding his special order. On the other hand, if she was running the shop all day, she wouldn't have time to work on them anyways, so they must be done already. He couldn't even remember when her business hours were. Did witches work from nine to five? Did she need to get home to make dinner for her husband? His heart sank at that idea, before he realized that both Lily and Sirius had encouraged him to pursue her. They wouldn't have done that if she were married. Well, Lily wouldn't have, at least.

Without anything further to go on, and not knowing her Floo address, or even if she had a Floo connection, Harry resolved to wait until noon to pick up the bags. He decided to spend the morning tending to his neglected physical training. He found a likely-looking park and ran laps around its trails in the warm August sun. By the time he felt done, it was ten minutes to noon, and he was close to missing his self-imposed deadline. He hurried back to Sirius' flat for a shower, deciding to skip lunch. But he couldn't stand to wear any of the borrowed robes he'd been wearing, so instead of going straight to Amy's, he went to Madam Malkin's again, intending to pick up some new robes. The shop was busy, though, and as he waited for one of the young assistants to start measuring him, he felt frantic and uncertain. Why was he in such a hurry to see Amy, anyways? He really did need the bags, but that didn't account for his agitated state.

By the time he had his new robes, he was famished, but unwilling to wait any longer. He was also no closer to understanding why he was so desperate to see Amy again. She'd made an impression on him, to be sure, but he had met plenty of witches before. Even if he did find her a bit fanciable—and he was by no means ready to admit that—seeing her again should be perfectly pleasant, not a cause for fretting. As he mounted the dark staircase that led to her shop, his mind was whirling.

He knocked on the door—should he have gone right in? No, too presumptuous—and her cheery voice calling out, "Coming!" settled his nerves a bit. The smile on her face as she greeted him helped, too, and as he croaked out a weak "Hello," he felt a distinct sense of calm settle over him.

"Good to see you again, Lex," she said warmly, and he smiled. It was good to see her, too. "Are you here for your bags, then?"

"Yes. Of course, yes, are they ready yet?" he asked.

"They are indeed." She opened a small chest and pulled out six bags, handing them over to him without delay.

He gave them a cursory examination. "Perfect, perfect," he said. "Thanks so much. These are going to be a huge help with—well, without them I wouldn't be able to, uh, do much of anything. Thanks."

She eyed him with amusement. "Are you sure you're not a Dark Lord? You're awfully mysterious over such a small piece of needlework."

He tried mock indignation. "Why a Dark Lord, and not an Unspeakable?"

"Unspeakables do their own sewing," she returned. "And you'd be wise not to ask how I know that."

"The life of a struggling seamstress is more glamorous than I'd imagined, then."

"You have no idea. Now, unless you're planning to have one of your minions curse me, that will be twelve Galleons."

He fished the coins out of his small money bag. They stood there for a moment, conversation exhausted, even though Harry wanted to find a reason to stay. Finally, she said, "Well, thanks so much, Lex. Feel free to tell your henchmen about my shop – I could use the business."

He smirked. "If I had henchmen, I would have sent one of them in the first place. I'm more of your lone-wolf type, when I'm not sleeping on Sirius Black's couch."

"Sirius? How's he doing? I assumed you were staying with James."

"No, I'm terrified of small children, and like I said, James and I aren't all that closely related. Sirius is fine, when he's not throwing me out and bringing girls over."

"Yes, I've met Sirius."

Again, the conversation hit a lull, and Harry couldn't find a topic for the life of him. Finally, he gave her what he thought was his best smile, and said, "It was really good to see you again." She smiled, and he was once again determined not to leave. An idea struck him. "So, I somehow skipped lunch today. Do you have a favorite place in the Alley you could show me?"

She pressed her lips together. "I can't, Lex, I've got to mind the shop. Could we—maybe another time?"

He went for it. "Dinner Friday?"

"That would be lovely."

"Until Friday, then." And, having no idea how to kiss her hand again, he made another strategic retreat from her shop.

* * *

><p>After all Harry's internal tumult over acquiring the bags, the retrieval of the first Horcrux was almost anticlimactic. Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was not a welcoming house, but it hadn't had time to fall into the kind of chaos that Harry had first seen it in, and it was possible to walk through the living room without being bitten by a Doxy. Harry and Sirius waylaid Kreacher, and proceeded to wheedle the locket out of him with the usual combination of reluctant kindness and cruel dismissiveness. Kreacher's loyalty to Regulus was still touching to Harry, and brought Sirius up short when he realized that Kreacher had been literally the only being that his brother could trust.<p>

With the locket secured in one of Amy's excellent bags, Harry assumed that Sirius would want to leave the house immediately. But he disappeared upstairs, and Harry wandered off to the library. The books were as Dark as he had remembered, but his casual perusal didn't turn up anything like "The Simple Guide to Trapping the Disembodied Spirit of a Dark Lord." Harry made a mental note to bring Lily here as soon as he could.

Sirius trudged down the stairs, holding a small sack and looking a little worse for the wear. When Harry glanced at the sack, he shrugged. "A few sentimental items. Mostly Reg's stuff, actually," he explained. He pulled a couple of books with no visible titles from the shelf, and continued to the kitchen. When Harry caught up with him, he was digging through the backs of cupboards and swearing. "I can't believe she drank all the good stuff. There must have been fifty thousand Galleons worth of top-shelf booze in this kitchen. Leave it to Mother to go mad in the most expensive, indulgent, selfish way possible." Harry shook his head sadly, and turned toward the door.

But Sirius wasn't finished. "Kreacher," he cried with authority, and the old elf popped in. Sirius actually crouched down to talk to him. "Kreacher, would you like to be sold to a family that has some use for an elf?" Harry winced at Sirius' inadequate attempt at kindness, and Kreacher drew himself up to his full height.

"Kreacher serves the House of Black," he said, with as much dignity as he could muster.

Sirius sighed. "Kreacher, the House of Black is pretty much just me, and I don't need an elf right now. I could sell you to somebody else who had some real work for you to do."

"Kreacher has always served the House of Black. When Kreacher's time comes, Kreacher's head will go on the wall. Kreacher only serves the House of Black." The old elf was caught between rage and despair.

"Kreacher, a lot of changes are coming to the House of Black. The wall may not be here when—when your time comes."

His eyes, already quite prominent, widened, and Harry was unpleasantly reminded of a Tom and Jerry cartoon. "Master would sell the ancestral home?" he gasped.

"Master would." Sirius caught himself. "I have no intention of living here, and there's no reason to let it fall into ruin." He paused. "I could try to sell you to the Malfoys. At least then you would be around Cousin Narcissa."

"Master will do as Master wishes. Kreacher serves the House of Black.

Sirius gave up. "Kreacher may serve the House of Weasley by this time next week. I'll be back sooner than either of us would like. Keep the place clean." And he practically stormed out the front door.

* * *

><p>The Wizengamot had a scheduled session Thursday, and Sirius was determined to claim the Black seat as soon as he could. The rest of the week found him back in the Ministry, and even at Gringotts once. Harry continued to practice with his new wand. The more he used it, the more he was convinced that he'd made the right choice. The precision he could cast with was unbelievable; his <em>Alohamora<em> could practically grease the workings of a lock and open it without a sound. He developed a habit, very irritating to Sirius, of trying to flick his wrist gently enough to produce exactly one spark. When he mastered that, he moved on to changing the color of the spark, until Sirius moved on to death threats.

But on Thursday night, he found himself wandless. The Wizengamot seemed to take its own security seriously enough, and he'd had to turn it over at the entrance to the visitor's gallery. The meeting was held in the Legislative Chamber, which was a far cry from the intimidating courtroom he'd been tried in years before. It was a plush, round room with three semicircular rows of desks on the floor, currently filled with old wizards and witches in plum robes. An ornate podium occupied the front of the room, with half a dozen Hit Wizards standing expressionless before it. He was seated high above the legislative floor in a mostly-empty observation gallery, between a grim Frank Longbottom and a pale James Potter. Harry knew his wandless magic was better than most people's, but he didn't think their missing wands accounted for their moods, so he nudged James. "What's the matter?" he asked.

"Maybe you don't know Sirius as well as you think you do. He's going to pull some colossal public prank, and the Wizengamot are going to chuck him into Azkaban. The minute he gets up there to take the oath, he's going to do something. My money's on fireworks. He's always liked fireworks. And they're going to spell out something like 'Sod off, you wankers.' Then he'll try to escape on that damned motorbike, and the Hit Wizards will stick him to the ceiling. What were you thinking, putting him in a position of authority?"

Harry blinked. "I don't think he's planning a prank. Or at least, not that kind of prank. Would he ever do something like that without an escape route and a few carefully placed accomplices?" James shook his head slowly. "Well, he hasn't asked me for help, and I gather he hasn't asked you. So it's got to be something else. Besides, I think you're underestimating him. He's really taking this seriously—uh, sorry. But he is. He spent the whole week at the Ministry and Gringotts, buried in law books."

James groaned. "It's worse, then. He's found some obscure law from 1403 that allows him to take werewolves as chattel, and he's going to walk around with Remus on a leash for the next week."

Harry snorted, but pulled himself together when James looked at him with despair. "Really, does anybody want to win this war more than Sirius?" he asked.

James considered the question for a moment. "Maybe you're right. I hope you're right. I don't think you're right, though. I think he's going to bring this place down around his ears."

Before Harry could console him further, the Hit Wizards around the podium erected a series of charms, and the gallery quieted. An ancient, stooped wizard climbed up to the podium, and began droning in archaic English about the charter of the Wizengamot. Harry looked at James, who only shrugged. Frank leaned over, and whispered, "That's the Sergeant-at-Arms for the Wizengamot. He'll introduce the Chief Warlock in a minute." He indicated another old wizard in the front row. "They're seated by seniority. Mum's just there, in the second row." Harry scanned the chamber, looking for likely allies, but from above and behind them, all the old wizards and witches looked the same to him. Without the vulture hat, he couldn't even pick out Madam Longbottom. It did seem likely that the chartreuse and orange robes in the front row belonged to Dumbledore.

Harry was relieved when it was a different wizard who stood and ambled up to the podium. He looked inquiringly at Frank, who whispered, "That's Archelaus Smith, the Chief Warlock. Not a bad sort. Bit old for the job, but that's how the Wizengamot works."

It seemed that the seating of Sirius was the first item on the agenda. The aging Chief declared that Sirius was the undisputed Head of the House of Black, which produced some muttering but no challenges from the rest of the Wizengamot. Frank leaned over again. "Nobody really wants Sirius on the Wizengamot, but it's better than an empty seat. Orion tried to leave Lestrange as proxy, but he was already a wanted criminal, so they refused to seat him. And both the Light and Dark have about the same level of hope and mistrust in Sirius. He was kind of an inspired choice, actually." Harry smiled modestly, and then Sirius was standing.

The oath was longer than Harry expected, and Sirius had to use his wand to take it. Harry felt a flash of jealousy that Sirius got to bring his wand into the Wizengamot chambers, but suppressed it quickly. When Sirius finished, his wand glowed blue, and the Chief stood again.

"I proclaim Sirius Black, head of the House of Black, to be a full member of the Wizengamot. Let all present recognize him." There was muted applause throughout the room. "And now, our newest member wishes to introduce himself briefly."

Harry looked at Frank in alarm, but Frank just whispered, "Completely normal."

Sirius stood before the wizarding world's legislative body. "Distinguished witches and wizards of the Wizengamot," he began, and Harry realized that Sirius himself looked distinguished. He hadn't cut his hair, but it was reasonably tame, and he wore his dress robes like a man comfortable with formality. The Black family ring glinting on his finger completed the picture, and Harry started to think that maybe Sirius was really going to embrace the role that Harry had imagined for him.

"First of all, my most humble thanks for your acceptance of my petition for membership. I know the vacancy in the Black family seat has been troublesome, and I intend to rectify the situation immediately."

Frank frowned. "He already has rectified it. Hasn't he?" he whispered to Harry, who only shrugged.

"I join this august body at a time of particular difficulty. We are at war with a dangerous and vicious enemy. The self-styled Dark Lord attacks our institutions, our citizens, and our very way of life. Our Department of Magical Law Enforcement fights a valiant and heroic fight, and I am proud to count myself among those in training to join them. The Wizengamot must continue to support their efforts." Harry couldn't find anything even remotely controversial in what Sirius had said, but the Wizengamot was beginning to look polarized. A white-blond head of hair was in an angry conversation with his neighbor. Harry wondered if it was Lucius Malfoy, but the man was too old. Abraxas, perhaps?

"But the so-called Dark Lord does not make his attacks alone. His supporters destroy and kill with the same perverse zeal as he himself does. And I do not refer only to those who wear the mask. The Aurors can fight them, and although the battle is difficult, they are winning. But there are many others, in all walks of life, who offer him other kinds of support. They give him powerful cursed items. They brew potions with which to wound his enemies and offer succor to his soldiers. And, through political and financial manipulations, they seek to weaken the Ministry of Magic from without and within. These supporters are every bit as dangerous as the masked wizards and witches who carry out his attacks. And they must be dealt with in the same way, even if they seem to be respectable members of our society."

James slumped in his seat. Frank clutched his forehead and muttered, "Sweet Merlin on a flying carpet, here it comes." But Harry leaned forward, totally engrossed.

"Distinguished witches and wizards, I come before you with information about a family—no, a House—who have given themselves over to the support of our enemy. They have given him material support. Their son wore his mask, and their daughter still wears it. Another daughter was married off to a notable supporter. Members who opposed the so-called Dark Lord's goals and tactics were disinherited or simply cast out. This House has aligned itself with the enemies of wizarding Britain, and yet claims the privilege of ruling it. So my first act as a member of the Wizengamot will be to introduce a resolution dissolving the House of Black, and revoking all the rights and privileges pursuant to its status as an Ancient House. The family vaults will be emptied of cursed items, and the family home will be sold to Muggles. Thank you for your time."

James' fireworks would have had a smaller impact. The room erupted in shouts, and Harry heard the word 'treason' a few times. The Hit Wizards shifted from apparent boredom to full alert in an instant, wands drawn, but no curses flew. Dumbledore was having three conversations at once, and even from his vantage point, Harry saw that the old man had no idea what to tell people. The blond wizard – yes, that must be Abraxas Malfoy – was standing, both hands gripping his desk, spittle flying from his lips as he shouted at Sirius. Sirius himself stood calmly at the podium. The Chief Warlock hobbled hastily towards him.

Harry looked at Frank, who was pinching the bridge of his nose. "There hasn't been a resolution for dissolution in my lifetime, and probably not in two or three hundred years." He had to shout to be heard over the chaotic room. "I've never heard of a House trying to dissolve itself. Usually it's the highest penalty in an honor duel – the loser's House is dissolved. That's what happened to the Meriweathers. Sirius must really hate his parents."

The Chief was slowly regaining control over the assembly. Sirius strode down to the last desk in the third row, ignoring the angry old men and women surrounding him, and took his seat without saying a word to anybody. "Thank you, Mr. Black," the ancient wizard shouted, and Frank winced.

"Mister?" he said. "That's practically a mortal insult. Sirius could challenge him to a duel over that."

"Why would he do that? The man just made his point for him," Harry pointed out, and Frank raised his eyebrows and nodded.

"The agenda for this evening's meeting has already been set, and Mr. Black's proposed resolution is not included. If and when he brings it through the proper channels, we will discuss it in this body. Until that time, let us think no more of it. The first item on our agenda is the proposal from the Honorable Mr. Crouch, Head of Magical Law Enforcement, to authorize the Auror and Hit Wizard corps to use Unforgiveable curses in the apprehension of certain classes of criminals."

* * *

><p>It was hours later that Harry and Sirius met in the kitchen of Sirius' flat. The Wizengamot had debated a series of resolutions with a level of acrimony that had Frank Longbottom sweating and shaking his head. Neither side had dared call for a vote on anything, and the session ended with nothing decided. Sirius had slipped out some back exit, away from the angry public in the gallery. Harry had left James and Frank dealing with an irate Dumbledore, who was visibly flaring his magic whenever he said Sirius' name.<p>

Sirius looked inordinately pleased with himself, and Harry couldn't help but shake his head. "I have nothing to compare it to, but I gather that wasn't a typical Wizengamot session," he said, and Sirius laughed. "Want to explain what you were thinking?"

"Oh, don't you get shirty with me," Sirius said, still laughing. "I've thought this through, and there are a couple of ways it could go. First, they could approve my resolution. This would get me off the Wizengamot, which everybody wants. It would infuriate the Lestranges and the Malfoys, which a lot of people want. But it would humiliate the old families that actually run this country, and so it will never happen."

Harry nodded, and summoned the Firewhiskey from the cabinet. "It would scare them, too, right? If the House of Black can be dissolved, is any House safe?"

"Exactly. Second, they could totally deny my resolution. This is unlikely, but possible. In that case, I get to stay on the Wizengamot and make their lives miserable. And at least that way, the rules are clear: there's absolutely nothing that an Ancient House can be punished for. Maybe that would wake the rest of the country up to the way things work."

Harry looked puzzled. "What's the third option?"

"The third option is what's actually going to happen. They're going to try to thread the needle. They're not going to dissolve my House, but it's going to be based on some technicality or other. Insufficient evidence, or lack of standing, or something. I get to stay on the Wizengamot—or maybe they find some excuse to kick me off, it doesn't matter. The point is, they'll have acknowledged that there's some line that even an Ancient House can't cross."

Harry nodded slowly. "And whatever that line is, you think that somebody will cross it."

"I think that? Harry, you're a sweet kid, but you're kind of naïve. I guarantee that they've already crossed it, and they will again. They're Cruciating small children for kicks. The point is, this gives Crouch and Bones a hunting license. Whatever line the Wizengamot draws, they'll catch somebody doing it and make it stick. Imagine the propaganda victory of Voldemort's biggest supporters on the Wizengamot having their Houses dissolved."

"I think you're the one being naïve here. The Wizengamot isn't going to convict the Malfoys of anything, ever."

Sirius nodded. "Not in the current political climate, no. We'd have to win some kind of major victory. Maybe if you were to kill Voldemort or something, people would be willing to listen."

"Right, so this is all my job again. Thanks, Sirius, you're a big help."

"We did summon you for a reason, you know."


	6. Chapter 6

Harry had managed to put off thinking about his date with Amy on Friday by training with his new wand and watching Sirius prepare for his Wizengamot debut. With all that behind him, he woke early Friday morning in a state of elated panic, feeling completely unprepared for anything that could possibly happen that night. He was afraid to ask Sirius to recommend a restaurant, or for any advice at all, really. But he couldn't ask Lily; he couldn't ask his mum for advice about a date, even if (as he ruthlessly reminded himself) she wasn't really his mum. So he worked himself into a frenzy alone, debating the relative benefits of Muggle versus magical entertainment, deciding whether he needed dress robes, and worrying about his total inability to talk about himself without spinning endless lies or even more unlikely truths.

By the time Sirius awoke, somewhat later than usual, Harry was desperate to get out of the tiny flat, so he followed Sirius to his usual breakfast spot without complaint. They had missed the morning rush, so they had the place to themselves. Harry was just about to give up and ask Sirius where he should take Amy when a shining silver phoenix burst through the door, landed on Sirius' shoulder, and said, in the voice of Albus Dumbledore, "Emergency Order meeting. Five P.M., my office." And it winked out of existence.

Sirius leaped out of his seat to see if the waitress had seen the Patronus, but she was bending over behind the counter, and gave no sign of noticing anything. He sat back down, threw up a quick privacy charm, and sighed with relief. "Glad she wasn't looking. I don't fancy trying to Obliviate her, and I don't know if we could get a professional here."

Harry nodded in approval. "Nice of you to think of the Muggle's welfare. Now what the hell is going on?"

"Don't know. Seen the Prophet today?" Harry shook his head. "Stay here. I'll nip down to the wizarding pub and grab a copy. Don't eat my sausages." And Sirius left.

When he returned, Harry had eaten his eggs and toast, but left the sausages alone in the middle of his plate. Sirius gave him a nasty glare, speared a sausage, and pushed the Daily Prophet across the table. Harry smirked at the headline ("Dark Scion Turned Light Pawn?"), but his quick scan of the paper turned up no likely reason for an emergency meeting. He met Sirius' eyes. "Do you think this is because of your performance last night?" he asked.

Sirius thought for a moment. "It doesn't make sense. Dumbledore's likely furious with us, but I can't imagine why he'd call a meeting of the whole Order. But there's nothing else it could be. Unless something happened this morning?" The two young men debated uneasily while they waited for Sirius' new breakfast to arrive.

No sooner had they left the café than an owl swooped down upon them. They ran for a side street, partly to avoid Muggle eyes, and partly because it was genuinely creepy to have a nocturnal predator assault you in broad daylight. When they were out of sight, the owl settled on Sirius' shoulder. He removed the scroll and opened it. As he scanned it, the color drained from his face. "It wasn't us," he finally said. "Voldemort assassinated Minister Bagnold on her way to work this morning. There's an emergency meeting of the Wizengamot at seven." He signed a small piece of parchment, re-tied it to the owl's leg, and they watched as it flew away.

Sirius broke the silence. "Let's head for the Potters'. Frank's going to be on duty all day, and I'm going to need to talk strategy with somebody before the Wizengamot meeting. Plus I'm sure they don't want to be alone."

* * *

><p>The Potters' kitchen was full of anxious wizards and witches. James and Sirius were hunched over a pot of coffee in the corner, speaking quietly and urgently. Harry, Lily, and the two ancient witches from the Order meetings leaned against the counter. Upstairs, Remus was playing with little Harry and Neville. Big Harry—or Lex, as they were calling him in front of people who didn't know the secret—worked hard to ignore their shrieks of delight. He spared a thought for Molly Weasley, trapped at home with a newborn and too many other children, and hoped that someone from the Order was there with her.<p>

The mood of the room was grim. Everybody tried to take comfort in one another's presence, but the house felt eerily like it was under siege. The lack of solid information on what had happened made everybody jittery. And nobody could fathom Voldemort's purpose.

Lily tried to lighten the mood by asking Harry about his date with Amy. It backfired, as he shouted, "Crap!", stopping conversation and silencing the children playing upstairs. "Excuse me," he said contritely. "I just need to send a quick message."

He conjured Prongs without a word, whispered a quick message to him, and sent him off to Amy's shop. When he turned around, Lily was staring wide-eyed at him. "Nice Patronus," she whispered.

"I guess I never told you about that. You know, I spent a lot of my life thinking that I never really knew my parents, so they couldn't have had any effect on me. And then things like that helped to convince me that I was wrong."

* * *

><p>The Order meeting was a grim and slightly chaotic affair. Members arrived in large groups, carrying their children, unwilling to travel alone. Frank and Alice were still on duty, so Neville bounced on James' knee. Carefully placed silencing charms kept the little ones from being disturbed by the adult conversation—Harry hadn't seen any Calming Draughts, but he supposed that magical parents had many tools at their disposal to keep children quiet. The room full of worried parents and bored, cranky babies struck Harry as a particularly tragic sort of resistance group.<p>

Dumbledore had already risen to start the meeting when Alastor Moody clomped through the office door. The joy that anyone might have felt at seeing him up and about was short-lived: the man looked terrible. He was walking with a crutch, not yet accustomed to his wooden leg, and his face was a mass of fresh scars. He wore no magical eye, just a small black eye patch. He paused in the doorway, looking exhausted, and Dumbledore rose. "Alastor," he said with mild surprise, "this is unexpected."

"Got word that something was up, and I told St. Mungo's I couldn't stay." The man's voice was even rougher than Harry remembered, and he collapsed heavily in the chair that Arthur Weasley hastily vacated. "Spent the day over at Auror HQ. When you're ready, I'll tell you about the investigation."

Dumbledore looked around the room. "I expect that we are ready now, Alastor. Please, tell us what you know."

Moody leaned on the table. "Minister Bagnold had a secured Floo connection from her home to her office in the Ministry. She had two Aurors on duty outside, guarding the place. Unfortunately, she also had a predictable habit. Every morning at half seven she took her Crup for a walk outside the wards." He shuddered briefly, and Arthur conjured him a glass of water. He dumped the cup on the floor, filled it from his own wand, and drained it in one swallow.

"Some time between the Aurors' shift change at four AM and her walk, a group of Death Eaters arrived at her house. We read about eight different magical signatures, but it was probably a bigger group than that. They killed the two Aurors with the Killing Curse. Neither of them managed to raise an alarm, or even got a spell off. When Bagnold stepped out for her walk, they killed the Crup, disabled her, and took her away by Portkey. Some of the Death Eaters remained behind, working on the wards. We couldn't trace the Portkey, but wherever they took her, Voldemort was there. He killed her himself, also with the Killing Curse. Her body also showed signs of exposure to Cruciatus, but probably not for very long." Sirius, James, and Harry exchanged looks at this piece of information.

"At about eight thirty, a group of Death Eaters returned her body to her house by Portkey. A few minutes later, they finished bringing the wards down. They brought her body into the house, and dumped it through the secure Floo connection to her office at the Ministry. It was discovered there at eight forty-one by her secretary."

Harry and Sirius both started to speak, but Moody glared at them. Even a one-eyed glare from Alastor Moody was enough to silence them. "There are plenty of obvious questions. The Death Eaters had a clear path into the heart of the Ministry, but they chose not to attack. Why not? What was the purpose in abducting the Minister, rather than killing her? She wasn't tortured, or not for long, so it seems like any interrogation was brief."

He sighed. "I'll be honest. Morale at HQ is pretty low. Voldemort just killed the Minister, with no casualties on his side and not even a hint of resistance. There's no reason to believe he had inside help, so it looks like our security just stinks. And we don't have any idea why he did it, or what he's going to do next."

Harry cleared his throat. "Auror Moody, I don't believe we've met. I'm Lex Luthor, and I'm here to destroy Voldemort. May I ask a few questions?"

Moody looked to Dumbledore, who inclined his head slightly, but said nothing. "Go ahead, lad," he finally answered.

Harry nodded his thanks. "Auror Moody, was anything taken from the Minister's person or home? I'm wondering if she had a seal, or a communication device, or anything that allows the person holding it to act with the authority of the Minister."

Moody's glare turned calculating. "Excellent question, lad. Her wand is unaccounted for, but nothing else is missing. The Ministerial Seal is still in her office. Her wand had no special authority; it was just her wand."

"Did the Minister live alone?" Moody nodded. "Did she have a house-elf?" He nodded again. "Has the elf been questioned?"

Moody shook his head. "House-elf testimony is considered unreliable," he said.

Harry frowned. "It wouldn't have to be admissible in front of the Wizengamot. It still might be worth asking." Moody nodded, but Harry wasn't sure if he would actually ask the poor elf any questions. "Auror Moody, what's the current working theory on Voldemort's motives?" Harry asked.

Moody stared right through Harry. "Killing the Minister obviously caused panic and terror, and will destabilize the Ministry in the short term. But we think those were secondary goals. We have a difference of opinion in the corps on what the primary goal was. First, it's possible that he wanted some information from the Minister, and he ripped it out of her mind with Legillimency rather than torture her for it. There was no trace of Veritaserum in her body, so he can't have used that, but Legillimency leaves no marks. This theory makes sense because he seems to have wanted to avoid a major confrontation. Second, it's possible that he wanted to use her, alive or dead, for some kind of ritual. There's no real indication of ritual magic, but there are plenty of rituals that would leave no trace."

Harry and Sirius exchanged another look, but Harry shook his head slightly. He didn't want to expand the group that knew about the Horcruxes under these circumstances, although Moody would certainly have to be brought in soon. And try as he might, he couldn't imagine why Voldemort would abandon his plan to kill little Harry on Halloween in favor of a quick strike on the Minister. "Thank you, Auror Moody," Harry said finally. "You've given us a lot to think about."

Dumbledore brought the meeting topic around to Voldemort's likely next moves. Harry reminded everybody that Pettigrew had revealed the Order's membership to Voldemort, and urged everybody to take their own security seriously. This caused a wave of mild panic, which Harry helped to calm by suggesting that the Marauders enchant a set of communications mirrors for any member who couldn't cast a messenger Patronus. The meeting was cut short by the upcoming Wizengamot meeting, which both Dumbledore and Sirius needed to attend.

* * *

><p>The Wizengamot was, in some ways, more subdued even than the Order. Harry watched from the same visitor's gallery, by himself this time. Frank and Alice hadn't been seen yet, and James wasn't about to leave Lily's side. The Hit Wizard contingent was doubled, and there were Aurors in the gallery as well. Despite the unusual circumstances, the Wizengamot followed its routine, with the Sergeant-at-Arms introducing Chief Warlock Smith.<p>

"Honorable witches and wizards of the Wizengamot, we find ourselves in a time of crisis." Harry was unpleasantly surprised that the man could address such a vital topic in such a boring drone. "Our agenda for this evening is of vital importance to the future of wizarding Britain. First, we must select an interim Minister of Magic. Once this has been accomplished, we will reopen several unresolved items of debate from yesterday's meeting. I will now open the floor for nominations for the post of Interim Minister."

Numerous members lit their wands, signaling their desire to speak, including Sirius. Smith pointed to the most senior of them, Abraxas Malfoy, who stood. "Gentle Witches and Wizards," he began, his voice making Harry ill, "in a time of uncertainty such as this, we must look to the pillars of our community that have stood for centuries. I am proud to nominate Edmund Parkinson, one of our finest leaders from one of our oldest families, for the post of Interim Minister of Magic."

'At least he was brief,' Harry thought. 'And now we know who the Death Eater candidate is.' He tried to remember if Parkinson bore the Mark, but he couldn't. Not that it mattered—if Malfoy was nominating him, it was clear he would do Voldemort's bidding. But it would be easier to discredit him if he were actually marked.

Another member was speaking now, and she seemed to be nominating Dumbledore. Her voice quavered as she described his 'shining power' as the last beacon of hope for those who believed in a strong and free magical world. Harry didn't want Dumbledore to be Minister any more than he wanted Parkinson. The old goat himself seemed content to accept the nomination without comment. Harry missed having Frank and James around to bounce ideas off of. 'Could he be planning to win, then turn the job down?' he wondered.

Most of the signals went down after this, and it seemed clear to Harry that the battle lines between Light and Dark had been drawn. But Sirius and a few others kept their wands lit. The Chief called on a bluff, bearded wizard that Harry didn't recognize. "I'd like to nominate Bartemius Crouch for Interim Minister. He's run a strong campaign against the Dark Lord as the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, and he'd be even more effective as Minister." Harry found the idea intriguing. Crouch was certainly an aggressive tactician, and would probably be effective at bringing the fight to the Death Eaters. He had a dirty little secret, which meant he was unlikely to survive as Minister after the war or, Harry mused, whenever else Harry wanted to get rid of him. And Amelia Bones was perfectly capable of replacing him in the DMLE. When Sirius extinguished his wand, Harry decided that Crouch was likely the best candidate they were going to get.

There were no further nominations, and the debate started immediately. Rhetoric on both sides was predictably overheated. Dumbledore was a "Muggle in wizard's clothing" who was apparently planning to "turn our wands over to the Queen." Parkinson was an "open sympathizer with the forces aligned against the Ministry." Crouch was an "overzealous buffoon" with "no respect for the traditions that guide the wizarding community." Through it all, Sirius sat with his wand lit, but as the most junior member present, the Chief never called on him.

After more than an hour, and (Harry suspected) absolutely nobody's mind changed, the debate began to burn itself out. Finally only Sirius' wand was lit, and Smith reluctantly called on him. "I get the feeling," he said, "that most of you who support Albus Dumbledore do so because you think he's the only one who could defeat our main enemy in a fight." There were murmurs throughout the room. "If that's the case, why would you want him behind a desk in the Ministry, approving budget requests? If Headmaster Dumbledore can defeat our enemy, the DMLE ought to deputize him and bring the battle to the enemy. But there's no reason to put him in the Minister's chair." Sirius paused for breath. "Department Head Crouch is a talented administrator and a ruthless tactician. Under his watch, the DMLE has done incredible work with very limited resources. He could do more as Minister, and he has my support." Harry couldn't tell what effect Sirius' speech had had, but Smith cut off debate immediately afterwards, and called for a vote.

Parkinson received twenty-two votes. Dumbledore received seventeen, and Crouch twelve. For an awful moment, Harry thought Parkinson had won, but Smith stood up again, and droned, "Since no candidate has received an absolute majority, a second round…" He stopped when Dumbledore lit his wand, and yielded the floor to him.

"My friends," said Dumbledore. Harry couldn't see them, but he was positive the man's eyes were twinkling. "I thank you for your kind words, and your strong support." Harry snorted, but Dumbledore couldn't hear him. "But my place is in Hogwarts, and I have no ambitions to run the Ministry. If and when I am asked, I will of course join the fight against the Dark Lord. But I must withdraw my name from consideration for the post of Interim Minister."

Once again, Harry missed Frank's insights. Why was Dumbledore withdrawing now? What had he proved, and what did he hope to gain? Was a second-place finish too humiliating? Or was he afraid that Crouch's votes would go to Parkinson?

A slightly stunned Chief Warlock called for another round of voting. This time, Crouch received twenty-eight votes, and Parkinson twenty-three. Harry paused for a moment to try to imagine which of Dumbledore's votes had gone to Parkinson, but the Chief was declaring Crouch the winner. Crouch himself was apparently not present. There were grumbles among the Dark supporters, but the results were unassailable. The Wizengamot took a short recess. Sirius stood up in the corner, where nobody was talking to him, caught Harry's eye in the crowd, and flashed him a thumbs up.

After the break, the Wizengamot took up the measures that had so sharply divided it the previous night. Harry watched in hope, then in mounting horror, as they approved everything that Crouch had asked for and more. By the end of the session, they had effectively declared martial law in wizarding Britain. The assassination of the Minister had provoked an extreme reaction, and once again Harry wasn't sure that this society was worth saving.

* * *

><p>At the end of the session, Harry waited for Sirius, taking the Order's new rules about security to heart. He was disgruntled when Sirius strolled out chatting pleasantly with Dumbledore. Sirius saw the look on Harry's face, and clapped him on the shoulder. "No rest for the weary," he said heartily. "We're off to the Potters' place. There's more to discuss."<p>

The Potters' living room was still a hub of activity. The hosts were joined by Remus Lupin, Arthur Weasley, Minerva McGonagall, and a visibly exhausted Frank Longbottom. Dumbledore spoke first. "Thank you, my friends, for joining us at this inconvenient hour. Mr. Luthor, if you wouldn't mind sharing a certain secret with those among us who have not yet received it?"

Harry was furious that Dumbledore had presumed to tell him who would learn the secret. But he couldn't object to anybody who was present, so he bit back his rage and explained Voldemort's Horcruxes to Remus and Arthur.

Before they had even absorbed the shock, Dumbledore was speaking again. "I believe that Mrs. Potter has some news to share with us."

She cleared her throat, and for a bizarre moment Harry though she was going to announce that she was pregnant. But then she said, "Mr. Luthor, you asked me to find a way to trap Voldemort's spirit when you destroyed his body. I have a solution for you."

"You found the answer? In a week? Merlin, no wonder I survived." Lily's cheeks pinked with his praise. "What was the trick?"

She flattened a scroll of parchment. "It was really a matter of looking at it from the right angle. Capturing a spirit is hard; I imagine Peeves would be long gone if there were an easy way to trap him. But imbuing an object with a spirit is pretty basic enchantment."

McGonagall snorted. "Basic enchantment? It's the highest form of the art."

"Fine, it's not exactly basic. But the principles are well understood. And the fact that the spirit is unwilling doesn't make it any more difficult."

Harry spoke up. "So, wait a minute. I'm going to create an object imbued with the spirit of Voldemort? Is this a good idea? I can picture a dagger with Voldemort's power, and it's not a pretty image."

She nodded, as if she'd expected this objection. "It could be dangerous, you're right. I wouldn't recommend a dagger. I think you should use a piece of amber."

Dumbledore chuckled, causing necks to swivel in his direction all around the table. "Excellent, Lily, excellent." She smiled under Dumbledore's praise, too, but Harry thought he saw something brittle in it. "Magically neutral to the point of being nearly inert. Excellent for keeping things in stasis. Yes, amber should work nicely."

"You're sure it will work?" Harry asked. Lily nodded. "Any way we can test it?" Heads shook around the table. Harry sighed. "I guess that will have to be good enough. All right. Frank, can you liaise with the Aurors? We're going to need some help with Death Eater suppression. Albus, it would be nice if you could distract Voldemort for me. He doesn't know me, but he sure knows you, and I might get in a quick hit without him even noticing. Can anybody tell me where Riddle Manor is?" Harry looked around the table, but the only answer he got was wide eyes and open mouths. "What?"

Sirius was the first to recover. "What exactly are you planning here?"

Harry stared at him. "We're going to kill Voldemort, and as many Death Eaters as we can. Uh, it would be nice to take a Lestrange prisoner, if possible." Nobody said anything.

Harry sighed. "Is there something we should be waiting for?"

Frank gave him a half-smile. "No, you're right. It's just that we've never really dared to hope for this day. I'll talk to Bones in the morning."

Dumbledore looked at Harry piercingly. "Riddle Manor is in Little Hangleton, I believe," he said.

Harry pumped his fist. "Excellent, then it's not under a Fidelius. Lily, how long will it take to teach me the charm?"

"Not long," she said, beginning to smile.

Harry smiled back, then turned his attention to Sirius. "Do you have any devastatingly attractive former housemates who run small, struggling jewelry stores? It seems I need a piece of amber."


	7. Chapter 7

Harry felt ready to go after Voldemort right away, but he was forced to admit that a little planning might improve the odds of success. (Moody's grumpy "Gryffindors charge ahead" helped him see reason.) He hadn't seen Riddle Manor in a long time, and had no idea how it might be defended. The Order wasn't capable of handling even a few Death Eaters, so it was going to be necessary to bring in some Aurors, or perhaps Hit Wizards. He needed a piece of amber to use Lily's charm, and probably some practice as well.

Reconnaissance of Riddle Manor seemed like the most pressing issue, and also the most dangerous. Harry was determined to do it alone, despite Sirius, James, Frank, and Alice all volunteering to come along. He was convinced that Voldemort would be aware of any magic that was used, and he didn't trust anybody who was raised in the magical world to remember not to cast spells.

After an awkward conversation with James, Harry secured the use of the Invisibility Cloak. He had to point out that he had used it hundreds of times before, and never lost it or torn it. He had never felt more like a petulant teenager than when James had stared him down, handed over the cloak, and warned him to return it, or else.

From a shop in Knockturn Alley, Harry acquired an ingenious device of questionable legality known as a Ward Mirror. When you looked in the mirror, any wards cast over the area in view were visible. Different wards showed in different colors, and the brightness gave some idea of the strength. He spent a few hours with Frank, learning the basics of warding schemes. It wasn't enough to make him an expert, but at least he could identify wards that would likely be linked to some kind of warning system. The wards on the Potters' place were most impressive in the mirror, forming concentric domes of bright, varied colors.

He approached the site by completely Muggle methods, Apparating to Greater Hangleton while clinging to a bicycle, then pedaling towards the graveyard. He stopped at the crest of every hill to peer into the mirror, looking for any hint of a ward. When he reached the graveyard, he proceeded with doubled caution. He chained the bicycle to the gate, and hid himself under the cloak. Of course, he couldn't see anything in the mirror when it was under the cloak, and sticking one arm out with the mirror wasn't a good idea at all. Disgusted with himself for overlooking this obvious problem, he found a corner of the graveyard with a good view of the manor, and no view of the road. He sat facing away from the manor, with his back to a tall, thick grave marker, and placed the mirror in front of him.

When he brought Riddle Manor into view in the Ward Mirror, he cursed under his breath. The wards were bright as a floodlight, and completely obscured the house. He couldn't even begin to separate the colors to identify the individual wards. If there was any good news, it was that all the wards seemed to be tightly focused on the house itself. The mirror didn't show anything over the graveyard or even the front garden of the house, not so much as a basic detection ward.

Just to be sure, Harry circled the house on the bicycle, checking it from five more angles. No matter where he stood, the results were the same: an impenetrable barrier around the house itself, but nothing extending even twenty meters further. He pedaled away slowly, going all the way back to Greater Hangleton before Apparating back to Sirius' place.

That night, he discussed what he'd learned with Sirius and Frank. Both of them were dismayed but not surprised by the intensity of the warding scheme.

"Frank, does the DMLE or the Ministry have anybody capable of taking down wards like that?" Harry asked.

Frank shook his head. "Aurors are pretty good at taking down un-anchored wards, but even then it takes time and teamwork, and these are clearly anchored. Dumbledore might have the raw power to do it, but I don't know if he's ever studied ward breaking. Probably not—it's not his usual way of doing things. But it almost doesn't matter. Unless you can take the wards down almost instantly, you're giving the Death Eaters a free shot. The minute you try to cross or even probe those wards, Voldemort's going to know it. And they can attack at their leisure while you're a sitting duck."

Harry turned to Sirius. "Just how well are you getting along with the goblins these days?"

"Pretty well, actually. They think what I'm doing is pretty funny, so they're willing to give lots of advice."

"And how much of the Black family fortune were you planning to dump into this war?"

Sirius shrugged. "I didn't have a limit in mind."

Harry paused for a moment. "Would you be willing to hire a Curse-Breaking team from Gringotts to deal with these wards?"

Sirius raised his eyebrows, but stayed quiet until Harry had to fight the urge to squirm. "I guess so," he finally said. "This is the last battle, right? There's no better time, then. I'll talk to them tomorrow."

Harry nodded, and turned to Frank. "How are things going with Amelia?"

"She'd like to meet you, and make sure you're for real, but she's probably interested. She and Crouch are new in their jobs, and they're willing to roll the dice for a big initial success. They're feeling extra vulnerable after Bagnold was killed, so they'd rather not give Voldemort any more time to dig in."

"Set up a meeting, and find out what they want to know. Dumbledore's not invited," Harry said.

* * *

><p>The next night, Frank and Sirius were in obviously contrasting moods. Harry looked at Sirius' dejected face, and decided he'd rather deal with that first than Frank's nervous excitement. "How are the goblins?" he asked, to start things off.<p>

"Not interested," Sirius said shortly. "They don't want to violate their neutrality, and they don't want to put a Curse-Breaking team in Voldemort's sights."

Harry sighed. "That's definitely too bad. Are you sure it wasn't just about money?"

Sirius nodded. "I'm very sure of that, yes."

"Any chance that they're running to Voldemort to tell him what you requested?"

Sirius flinched, then relaxed. "I doubt it very much. I think they were sincere in wanting to stay neutral, and doing that would be picking a side. And they still think I'm funny—actually, they thought this request was downright hilarious—so they probably won't try to get me killed."

"Would they be interested in helping to research a theoretical question about a particular ward scheme?"

Sirius shook his head. "I don't think I can push them on this."

Harry grunted. "All right, the wards are still an open issue. Frank, what's your news?"

Frank smiled. "You've got a meeting with Amelia Bones and Alastor Moody in an hour."

"An hour? How much longer would you have waited to tell me that?" Harry demanded.

"Not much." His smile widened. "They're very interested in what you have to say."

"So am I," Harry grumbled. "Let's talk. What are they likely to offer, and what will they need to know?"

* * *

><p>They met at Bones Manor. Moody met Harry and Frank out front, took their wands, and escorted them into the Bones family's ancestral home. Amelia herself was waiting in the drawing room, and greeted them curtly. Harry was pretty sure there were two Disillusioned Aurors in the room, but he chose not to make an issue of it. A silent house-elf served them tea, which nobody drank.<p>

Harry decided to put all his cards on the table at once. "Director Bones," he said, "I know it seems like I'm here to do your job for you, but I'd like to work together. I know where Voldemort is, and I can kill him. But I probably can't handle his Death Eaters at the same time. Can you spare enough Aurors to keep them distracted while I take care of him?"

"My job is to lead the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, not to run interference for vigilantes. I want Voldemort defeated as badly as anybody, but I can't condone you going after him by yourself," she replied, more coldly than Harry had expected.

"Like I said, I'd rather do this with your cooperation. I'm just here to deal with your Dark Lord problem. I don't want to step on anybody's toes, but I don't think there's anybody else capable of it right now. So let's work together."

Bones glared at him through her monocle. She had the same steely, middle-aged appearance as from his trial, however many years in the past or future that was, but she no longer inspired any fear in Harry. In fact, he had a great deal of respect for her abilities, and for her principled stand in the last universe. "I appreciate your willingness to cooperate," she said dryly. "But before I risk the majority of the Aurors on a fool's errand, what makes you think that you can defeat Voldemort, even without the Death Eaters?"

Harry was reluctant to tell her about where he was from, but it was probably the only way to get her help. Besides, she deserved the truth. He took a deep breath. "I don't know what you've heard about me," he said, "but I'm not from around here."

"The South East somewhere, judging from your accent," she interrupted.

"Surrey," Harry said, impressed, "but not this Surrey. I don't really understand the mechanics of it, but I was brought here from another universe specifically to deal with Voldemort. I'm probably the best-qualified Voldemort-slayer in the world. I have the training, the backing of prophecy, and the experience. I've killed Voldemort twice already."

She blanched. "Then all his bragging about immortality is true."

Harry tried to explain. "No. I mean, to a certain point, it is, but I haven't killed this Voldemort yet. I've killed him in two other universes, and both times I undid all the tricks he was using to be immortal first. When I kill Voldemort, he stays dead. And another thing, I'm not a vigilante. Deputize me, make me an adjunct Auror or whatever, and I'll play by the rules."

"The rules that Aurors follow are not that simple. Do you even know what they are?"

"I was at the last Wizengamot meeting. They seem pretty simple to me. Aurors can do whatever they want to anybody they suspect of anything." Bones looked ashamed. "I'll limit myself to marked Death Eaters and anybody in Voldemort's immediate presence."

Bones looked at Moody, then back at Harry. "How do I know you're not a lunatic or a con man?"

"What would convince you? Pensieve memories? I didn't keep any trophies, so it's not like I can show you the pieces of Voldemort's wand."

Moody took over. "Lad, you said you were the only one capable of killing Voldemort. Are you saying you're more powerful than Dumbledore?"

"Maybe a little. But that's not what I mean. If Dumbledore had Voldemort defeated and at his mercy, do you think he'd be able to finish him off? I don't." He turned to Moody. "I think you could do it, but I doubt you could win the fight in the first place."

Moody snorted. "You might be right about that. For all my experience, I got caught out last week. It's a good thing it wasn't against Voldemort himself." He exchanged another look with Bones, and she nodded slowly.

"All right. Based on what I've heard from Moody here about the ritual that was used to summon you, and what I've heard from you tonight, we can talk about working together. What's your plan?"

Harry and Frank sat back, relieved, and Harry started to explain. "Our plan could use some refinement, really. We know where Voldemort is, but you probably have a better estimate of his forces. Assume he can bring in every marked Death Eater in a very short time, even if we catch him alone. We'll have the element of surprise, but only if we can find a way through his wards. The wards are the biggest sticking point right now."

"Can you describe the scheme?" Moody asked.

"Not in much detail." Harry paused. It was probably better not to admit to using the Ward Mirror. "Very powerful wards, a wide variety, layered closely together and very close to the house."

Moody and Bones shared another look. "Kinetic energy," Moody offered.

"How do you mean?" Harry asked.

"Wards are great against magic, and magical beings, but they're only so-so against physical attacks. Especially with a complicated scheme, it just takes too long for the magic to discharge against a fast-moving object. So if you can hit them with something big enough, you can punch a temporary hole. It won't bring the wards down, but it might buy you a few seconds to get something through."

"Can you get a person through this way?" Frank asked.

"Depends on the wards. It sounds like you'd need to encase yourself in a few feet of granite for these, and that's impractical. With a weaker set of wards, well, a giant wooden horse is traditional."

"What about a Muggle military vehicle?"

Moody smiled, his scars rippling. "I like the way you think, but I doubt it. Too much technology, too many electrics. You'd likely get hung up halfway in."

Harry turned it over in his head for a minute, but an obvious answer eluded him. He moved on. "Once you're in, then what?"

Frank looked at him. "Then you destroy the ward stone. Or stones."

Moody nodded. "Aye. From what you described, it's probably one stone, and it's probably a big one. Nice blasting curse is usually enough."

"Won't it be buried in the basement or something? How will I find it?"

Moody smiled again, to Harry's dismay. "I might just have a little item that will help you. Of course, possessing it would be illegal, so we can't talk about that in front of the boss."

* * *

><p>With his preparations nearly complete, it occurred to Harry that he had no hidden advantages in the fight with Voldemort. Dumbledore had the Elder Wand, and Harry couldn't very well barge into his office and disarm him now. His holly and phoenix feather wand was long gone, so he couldn't rely on the Priori Incantatem effect. The Sword of Gryffindor was unavailable to him. He was going to have to defeat Voldemort in a fair fight. With that in mind, he decided a visit to Dumbledore was in order.<p>

He went to the Headmaster's office unannounced, and negotiated with the Gargoyle for admittance. Dumbledore seemed neither surprised nor annoyed to have Harry march into his office in the middle of the day. Once again, Harry decided that directness was his best bet.

"Albus," he asked, "do you believe that Tom Riddle's soul can be redeemed?"

Dumbledore regarded him steadily. "I fear that it cannot," he said sadly.

"Do you believe that you are capable of killing him?"

Dumbledore looked away briefly. "I have asked myself that question many times. I think that I could, in the heat of battle. I would not hesitate to use lethal spells against him. But in cold blood, I doubt that I could. It goes against all that I believe in."

Harry couldn't fathom whether Dumbledore was being painfully honest, or playing some game that was way beyond him. Regardless, he continued. "Did you summon me here to kill him?"

"I did," Dumbledore said firmly. "I sought to relieve a child of that burden. It seems like folly now that you are here, but I saw no other option."

Harry nodded. The trap was sprung, but he had no idea whether he or Dumbledore had been caught. "Then, will you help me do what you brought me here to do?" Dumbledore stared, so Harry explained further. "Voldemort fears you, but he doesn't know anything about me. If you can seek him out and keep him busy, I can catch him unaware. It's our best chance at defeating him quickly, and saving the lives of a bunch of Aurors and Order members."

Dumbledore stood up, and paced to the far wall of his office. He paused there, turned, and said, "I will do as you ask. When we assault Voldemort's stronghold, I will seek him out, and I will do my best to defeat him. What you do is up to you."

* * *

><p>Harry circled high above Riddle Manor on an Auror-issue broomstick, Mad-Eye Moody sitting behind him. Moody had earned his old name back by affixing a Ward Monitor on top of the eye patch. It didn't rotate like the original eye, but its hexagonal aperture was strange enough that Harry thought the name fit. It was even better than the Ward Mirror that Harry had used, because it showed the links between the wards and the anchoring stone. They were preparing to execute the first and trickiest part of the assault on Voldemort's stronghold.<p>

Moody's kinetic energy approach to getting through the wards was the most fruitful idea they'd had. So he and Harry had worked out a plan, and even practiced it a little. (Their first training session, Moody had demanded that Harry conjure a great big rock. Harry had waved his new wand and created a perfect cube of polished black granite, eight feet on a side. Moody had nearly dropped his wand.) As the Aurors (and a few Order members) got into position below, they picked their spot.

At Moody's signal, Harry conjured another cube of stone in the empty air beside him. It plummeted towards Riddle Manor, and even without Moody's eye, Harry could see when it hit the wards. They hissed and sparked, and even slowed the stone down a little, but it passed through without breaking, and landed beside the house with a mighty thud. Riddle Manor shook slightly. Moody watched the wards carefully through his Ward Monitor, and shouted in Harry's ear, "One second, maybe two. Plan B."

Harry nodded, and waited until he felt Moody grip his shoulders and heard him cast a sticking charm. Then he conjured another mass of granite. He held it in place for a moment with a levitation spell, bringing the broomstick directly above it. Then he released the spell and leaped from the broomstick at the same moment, sending himself and Moody towards the ground in the wake of the rock.

Even as he leapt, he began his transformation into the Hungarian Horntail. He completed it well before the stone hit the wards, and tucked his wings in tight, following the stone as closely as he dared. It hit the wards with a sizzle, then passed through, with Harry and Moody close behind. As soon as Moody shouted that they had cleared the ward barrier, he threw out his wings and braked as hard as he could. The Horntail's wings were unbelievably strong, and he alit on the ground gently.

Moody countered his sticking charm and leaped off to find and destroy the ward stone. It was Harry's job to keep the Death Eaters boxed up in the house, and he started out by breathing a stream of fire at the main entrance. Whatever fireproofing charms the Death Eaters may have put on the house weren't up to stopping dragon fire, and the front of the house ignited, to Harry's great satisfaction. He leaped up, flew directly over the top of the house, and loosed another stream at the back door, to similar results. Then he started an aerial patrol around the house, occasionally hitting windows with short bursts of flame.

On his second circuit of the house, a blast of spellfire knocked out a first floor window and a big chunk of the wall around it right in front of his path. He continued past the new hole in the side of the house, then lashed at the opening twice with his tail, catching one brave Death Eater and knocking him to the ground. He craned his neck over his shoulder and followed the tail swipe with more fire, but he felt the need to be wary of the opening. He wasn't sure if the Horntail's hide would absorb a Killing Curse or not, and the Death Eaters were likely to send plenty at him.

As he passed by the front entrance again, he saw a group of Death Eaters getting organized with Flame Freezing charms. He bashed at them with his tail, but they sent a flurry of spells at him, and he took cover around the side of the house. It might be time to stop being such a big target, he thought, and transformed back. As he was conjuring a small wall to hide behind, Moody found the ward stone. At first, Harry thought he'd been hit by a spell, or perhaps a bolt of lightning, but the rippling crack around and above him told him it was the wards coming down. A group of Aurors immediately sent a volley of spells towards the front entrance, where the Death Eaters were putting together a respectable defensive position. Harry was somehow gratified to see very few Unforgiveables in the salvo. And Albus Dumbledore strode towards the house, batting spells aside, beard wreathed in flame like an avenging angel. "Tom Riddle," he cried, his magically amplified voice echoing through the graveyard, "come and meet your destiny."

Voldemort must not have been quite ready, as he did not appear. Dumbledore stopped a dozen paces in front of the front door, ignoring the spellfire around him. Harry kept himself low, and put up a shield covering Dumbledore. The old wizard began systematically Vanishing the exterior of the house, starting at the ruined front entrance. Harry privately approved; it wasn't giving him much of a tactical advantage, but it couldn't have been very tiring, and it made him look implacable. He even exposed a surprised Death Eater, who Harry promptly took out of the fight with a Bludgeoning Curse.

Before the Death Eaters could organize a volley of Killing Curses, which Dumbledore would have had to dodge or shield with a major conjuration, an explosion tore a hole in the roof. Voldemort emerged from the opening, and settled gracefully on the edge of the burning house's ruined roofline. Harry barely recognized him; his face was twisted and cruel, but hardly serpentine, and when he spoke, his voice was a rough baritone.

"Albus Dumbledore," he said, chuckling. "The Muggles have sent a schoolteacher after me." Dumbledore conjured a whip of fire, and flicked it almost gently at Voldemort. Voldemort, in turn, tossed up a quick shield, and the whip spattered against it and disappeared. He stared down at Dumbledore two stories below. "Do you really expect to defeat me, old man? Or is a glorious defeat preferable to watching me rule?"

Dumbledore stood, the wand in his hand quivering slightly. Harry glanced at the Aurors' lines, and was impressed to see that they had maintained discipline in the face of this apocalyptic confrontation. There even seemed to be a group preparing to storm the house. Dumbledore spoke again. "Tom Riddle," he thundered, "your sad attempt to rule will end today." He jerked his wand hand, and Harry realized that what he had mistaken for quivering was actually spell-casting. He had transfigured the slate tiles of the roof into a great stone monster, and with his last movement, the beast had swung an appendage at Voldemort, catching him completely unaware.

The sound of stone hitting ribs was distinctive and sickening, and so loud that Harry wondered if Dumbledore had amplified that as well. Voldemort stumbled over the edge of the roof, and for a moment, it looked as though the fight was over, but he gained control of the fall almost immediately. He swooped away from Dumbledore and towards the side of the house where Harry was, landing twenty yards from Dumbledore, with his back to Harry. He advanced on Dumbledore in fury, and Dumbledore conjured another flaming whip.

Voldemort raised his arms to cast a spell, but before he could release it, Harry had already launched three _Sectumsempras_ at him from behind. The first one caught him in the hip, spinning him into the path of the second, which split his opposite shoulder. The third went wide. Voldemort reacted faster than Harry would have imagined possible, sending a bone-breaker back Harry's way, but it was nowhere close to the mark. He could see the confusion and rage in Voldemort's eyes at the sudden appearance of this new enemy.

Dumbledore's whip cracked behind Voldemort's head, and the enraged Dark Lord answered with a Killing Curse. Dumbledore dodged it nimbly, but he was forced to drop his whip to do so. Harry launched a series of _Reductos_. Voldemort's attention was already back on him, but with his fresh wounds, he could not dodge, and Harry's spells rapidly battered his shield into nothing. As it vanished, he attempted a quick Apparition, but the Aurors had gotten their own wards up, and he failed. He took two more spells to the chest, and Harry knew how much they had to hurt.

But Voldemort was not finished; while absorbing the two spells, he had brought his hands up and cast the spell that he had intended for Dumbledore at the beginning of the fight. A wave of blue fire rushed at Harry, and he was forced to dodge and shield. Even with a shield up, the fire stung badly as it rushed by. That was all Voldemort needed to seize the initiative again, launching Dark curses with a speed that Harry marveled at, even as he was dodging and shielding for his life.

And then Dumbledore's rock monster tumbled off the roof and landed on Voldemort. He must have sensed it coming a split second before it hit, because Harry saw some kind of shield go up, but the impact knocked Voldemort to the ground, and he was slow to rise. Harry charged directly at him, firing off spells as he ran. They hit Voldemort's struggling form with terrible effect, and by the time Harry got to him, he was no longer trying to get up.

Voldemort was clearly still alive, and his eyes burned with hate, but Harry gave him no chance to regroup. He hit him directly across the throat with a _Sectumsempra_, and watched Voldemort die for the third time in his life. No, the fourth. Or the fifth, or maybe even the sixth, depending on what you counted. He still had more to do, though, and he reached into his pocket and pulled out a fist-sized chunk of amber. Voldemort's wraith-like form separated slowly from his body, but Harry was already reciting Lily's charm, and it was pulled into the amber before it had the chance to do any more harm. Harry dropped to the ground, exhausted and breathing hard, but barely wounded.

Around him, the Aurors forced their way into the burning manor. Without any hope of escape, their leader dead, most of the Death Eaters decided surrender was their safest option. Harry stuffed the piece of amber into one of Amy's bags, and stood. He found Dumbledore staring at him. The two men shared a long look, and then the aging Headmaster turned away.


	8. Chapter 8

Despite some initial reluctance, Harry agreed to attend a debriefing in Madam Bones' office after the fight. Madam Bones had been honest with him, and the Aurors had played their part magnificently, so he felt like he owed her honesty as well. Besides, it was better that she hear what had happened directly from him.

Minister Crouch was there, along with Bones herself, Rufus Scrimgeour, and an Auror that Harry didn't recognize. A Ministry flunky took notes in the corner, but said nothing. Dumbledore was conspicuous in his absence. The mood in the office was businesslike, not celebratory as Harry had expected, and perhaps even a little downhearted. Crouch took control of the meeting from the start. "Rufus," he said, "as the on-field commander, I'd like to hear your report first. The short version, please."

Scrimgeour cleared his throat. "Minister Crouch, Director Bones. This afternoon, a group of eighty Aurors and five deputized civilians assaulted the base of the so-called Dark Lord. Auror Moody and Lex Luthor initiated the assault, breaching the wards, and bringing them down from inside." He nodded at Harry. "While the two of them were inside the wards, a dragon of unknown origin attacked and damaged the house, suppressing Death Eater resistance while Auror Moody brought down the wards." Crouch raised his eyebrows at this.

"When the wards came down, the Aurors attacked the house with spellfire, but did not attempt to enter. Albus Dumbledore called the Dark Lord out, and initiated a duel with him. When Dumbledore landed a significant hit, Luthor here jumped into the fight. Between the two of them, they defeated the Dark Lord, with Luthor landing the killing spell. When the Dark Lord was dead, Luthor performed an unknown spell on his body." Crouch peered at Harry, but Harry saw more curiosity than suspicion in the look.

"During the duel between the Dark Lord and the two deputized civilians, Death Eaters launched a significant strike from the rear entrance to the house. The Auror lines held, but at a cost. When the Dark Lord was killed, many Death Eaters seemed to be temporarily incapacitated. The Aurors were able to contain the strike almost immediately, and resistance collapsed after that." Scrimgeour paused and took a deep breath. "The Aurors took approximately twenty-five percent casualties. That's twelve dead and nine seriously injured. Of the injured, eight are considered likely to survive, although three may never return to duty. The dead include Auror Moody. He was incapacitated by the backlash from destroying the ward anchor, and killed while helpless." Harry winced. He hadn't even been aware of Moody's loss. Somehow it didn't seem fair that Moody never survived to see a world after Voldemort.

Scrimgeour was still speaking. "Initial counts place the number of Death Eaters present at the house at sixty-six. Of those, fifteen including their leader were killed, and the remainder were captured. We are unaware of any escapees. The captured are being held in Ministry holding cells. Many have not yet been identified, but several prominent families will be included in the final tally." Harry snorted. That seemed like an understatement to him. "The site is isolated enough that the likelihood of major Statute of Secrecy violations is low. A reinforced Obliviation Squad is currently conducting interviews within the Muggle village."

Crouch turned his focus to Harry, which saved him from thinking too much about what kind of 'interviews' an Obliviation Squad would conduct. "If everything I have heard is true, we are greatly in your debt," he said, and Harry nodded gravely. "But there are many unanswered questions. Would you mind filling in a few details?"

Harry almost smirked at Crouch's phrasing, but restrained himself. "Of course," he said instead. "First of all, let me say how sorry I am to hear of the Auror's losses. Auror Moody in particular was a friend and ally, and I regret his loss deeply." He paused as the three others at the table acknowledged his words. "Now, I'm sure you're wondering where the dragon came from. I can't reveal too much, but you won't find a missing Hungarian Horntail anywhere in the world. And my wand is particularly well suited to illusions and transfigurations." That wasn't an outright lie, but it was pretty far from the truth. Still, a dragon Animagus was patently impossible, so another explanation would probably be accepted.

"Now, let me explain a little bit about what I did after killing Voldemort. He has anchored his soul to this plane, and destroying his physical body is not enough to kill him permanently. So after I killed him, I trapped his spirit to prevent it from trying to possess anyone. If you're worried that this means that Voldemort is not completely dead, you're right. But he's pretty much harmless for now, and I'll finish the job as quickly as I can."

Crouch regarded him angrily. "Why kill him, if his soul is still anchored and he can't really die? Why not destroy the anchors first?"

"It was a tactical decision," Harry said with strained patience. "I could have spent the last couple of weeks traipsing around Great Britain, destroying soul anchors, and left Voldemort to keep killing politicians and innocent people. Instead, I destroyed Voldemort's body and helped the Aurors capture most of the Death Eaters, so this society has a chance to live in peace."

Crouch and Bones shared a look, and he nodded, but Harry wasn't sure he was fully convinced. "Thank you, Mr. Luthor. Would you mind explaining the relationship between yourself and Albus Dumbledore?" he finally said.

Harry shuddered momentarily at the implication. "Dumbledore and I have an alliance of convenience. He is powerful, and opposed to Voldemort. But I don't trust him, and I don't think he should be Minister, or Headmaster, or even Senior Assistant Rubbish Collector," he answered.

Crouch looked a little happier about that. "Again, I thank you, Mr. Luthor. The Wizengamot will no doubt meet shortly, and I imagine that they will determine some way to thank you as well."

* * *

><p>"Unknown Hero Slays Dark Lord!" trumpeted the next morning's Daily Prophet. There was even a photo of Harry, apparently taken when he was in the Wizengamot visitor gallery, but it was so dark and he was so far away that it was hard to make him out. Harry and Sirius shared a laugh at Dumbledore's omission from the headline. Of course, there was another emergency Wizengamot session scheduled for that night, which Sirius was required to attend, and Harry wanted to as well. But he had another piece of business to take care of first.<p>

He Flooed to Diagon Alley, and found himself surprised at the level of revelry there. The gravity with which Crouch, Bones, and Scrimgeour had treated the situation had made him forget how the average witch or wizard would react. The street was filled with people, shouting, laughing, and hugging. A few exhausted Aurors maintained some semblance of order, but even they were mostly limited to stopping people from setting off fireworks in the middle of large crowds. Butterbeer flowed freely, and some people had obviously been drinking something stronger, likely all night long.

Harry wound his way to the far end of the Alley, turning down a couple of shots of Firewhiskey. A quartet of twelve-year-olds offered him a Butterbeer, which he drank in one gulp. He tossed the bottle into the air, then Vanished it silently, to their delight and awe. Nobody recognized him from the picture in the Prophet. He climbed the now-familiar set of stairs to Amy's shop, and knocked on the door, not really expecting to find her in. To his surprise, she opened the door right away.

"Lex!" she said happily. "It's good to see you. I got your message—very impressive, by the way, but a little on the cryptic side. Happy, well, whatever this is, Victory Day, I suppose." She sounded giddy and strained all at once.

He chuckled. "Happy Victory Day to you too" He looked at the floor for a moment, then back at her face. "Uh, I'm sorry about breaking our date. I came to see if you still wanted to reschedule."

"Lex," she said carefully, "that picture in the Prophet. He looked kind of familiar. Did- did you break our date to go kill the bloody Dark Lord?"

Somehow, Harry felt a little sheepish. "I didn't think anybody would recognize me from that. Yeah, that's pretty much what happened," he admitted.

"Then I don't think you have to apologize," she said forcefully, and wrapped him in a hug. He put his arms around her slight form, not too surprised to enjoy the way she felt in his arms. She pulled back after a long moment and looked him in the eye. "Thank you," she said firmly. "From me and everybody else." Then she dropped her eyes. "Are you sure you still want to go out with me?"

The Butterbeer turned cold in his stomach. "Why wouldn't I?" he asked with trepidation.

She wrinkled her mouth. "Oh, I'm not a Death Eater or anything. But I am just a seamstress, and you're the biggest hero in the world right now. Couldn't you do better?"

"Is there someone better?"

This earned him a smile and a glare. "Seriously, I'm not exactly a suitable date to a Ministry Ball or anything."

Harry widened his eyes. "Oh, Merlin, there probably will be a ball. I wouldn't dream of making you go to it, though. I was thinking more of Muggle London."

She sighed. "Look, Lex, all I'm saying is, you don't have to go through with this if you don't want to. I didn't know anything about you when you came in, I just liked the way you looked. And acted." She blushed fiercely.

His heart swelled. "Amy. I can't think of a better reason to go on a date than that. You were the only person in the world who noticed me before I got involved in the war. And I, uh, I felt it too. Come on, it'll be fun."

She smiled at him. "OK," she said simply.

Harry looked down again. "Uh, I should probably go to the Wizengamot session tonight. Is tomorrow all right?"

She shook her head in what he was pretty sure was mock exasperation. "Tomorrow is fine," she assured him.

"I'll pick you up at six. I was serious about Muggle London, if that's OK. The whole Alley is going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow."

She looked a little uncertain. "I haven't spent a lot of time in the Muggle world."

Harry waved a hand. "It'll be fun," he repeated. "Put your wand up your sleeve, and wear something simple."

"All right, I'll trust you on this one." And she took a step forward and caught him in another hug. He thought about kissing her, but contented himself with squeezing her tightly.

She let go. "See you tomorrow, Lex," she said, with a smile that seemed almost shy.

"Tomorrow at six." He gave her a half-bow, and headed down the stairs.

* * *

><p>At loose ends for the rest of the day, Harry decided to talk to Sirius about retrieving another Horcrux. He had managed to verify that Lucius Malfoy was among the detained Death Eaters, so he suggested storming Malfoy Manor, perhaps even during that night's Wizengamot meeting. But Sirius had another idea.<p>

"Let me talk to Narcissa," he insisted. "With Lucius in jail, she'll be willing to make a deal. And I'm the head of her family—I owe her at least the chance to make up for her past sins."

Harry shook his head. "She's every bit as awful as you'd imagine. And what kind of deal would you offer, anyways?"

"She's awful, but I bet she loves her son. I can protect him from some of what's coming."

"Watch yourself, Sirius. I don't want to go around threatening people's kids to get them to cooperate."

He glared at Harry. "Narcissa and I speak the same language. If I can give Draco a family name to be proud of, she'll give me one of Lucius' less important possessions. Besides, I saw the way you got through Riddle's wards. You'd be dead six different ways if you tried that at Malfoy Manor."

They went down to the pub with a public Floo. As Sirius went to toss in a handful of powder, Harry grabbed his arm. "Wait! What if Abraxas is at home?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "He's at the Ministry, spreading gold around like Boomslang Pox. Don't worry, I checked."

Harry let him go, and Sirius knelt in front of the Floo. "Malfoy Manor!" he cried. "Narcissa? It's Cousin Siri."

Harry smirked, but a house-elf was already answering. "Mistress Narcissi is not to be receiving calls today," he said. It wasn't Dobby, to Harry's relief.

"Inform Mistress Narcissa that the Head of the Black Family would like to speak with her," Sirius said. Harry shook his head at how easily Sirius could turn on the manners of his upbringing.

The elf vanished, then returned. "Mistress Narcissi is delayed in her coming to the Floo. Would sir be so kind as to wait?"

Sirius showed his teeth. "I will wait, but not for long." He left his head in the Floo, and Narcissa arrived a moment later. "Cousin Cissy!" he said enthusiastically. "How have you been?"

"I don't have time for this, Sirius. What do you want?" Her voice betrayed nothing of the strain she must have been under.

"I want to talk to you. Can we come through? I'm at a public Floo, and I'd rather talk in private."

"Very well. What do you mean, 'we'?" But Sirius was already plunging through the fireplace, and Harry was just a step behind.

He tumbled out into the opulence of Malfoy Manor. Narcissa was regarding them icily, and Harry had to admire the way she stood up to them. Her beauty, which Harry remembered as slightly faded, was in full flower, and she was dressed like a princess.

Sirius wasn't intimidated, though. "Cissy!" he practically squealed. "It's been so long. I was so sorry to hear about Lucius."

Her face was like a marble statue. "Sirius. I was so pleased to hear that you had claimed your birthright. Who is the gentleman accompanying you?"

"This is my friend Lex. He killed Voldemort for us."

That cracked her façade, and she wasn't able to fully rebuild it before she spoke. "Lex," she quavered. "Pleased to make your acquaintance." And she approximated a curtsey.

Sirius sighed. "Narcissa, I'm not here to threaten you. Get us some tea and let's talk."

She snapped her fingers, and an elf popped in—again, not Dobby. "Tea for three. The family sitting room," she hissed, and led them down the hall.

Sirius sprawling on her settee did nothing to improve her composure. She served them tea like a child meeting her first grizzly bear, and sat in silence while Sirius slurped the drink. Finally, he must have decided that he had unnerved her enough. "Cissy," he said gently, "the Malfoy name is finished. This life that you're showing me is over. Come back to the family."

"I won't leave my husband," she said with a hint of her former strength.

Sirius smiled sadly. "The only time you're going to see Lucius is on visiting day at Azkaban. Or maybe he'll get the Veil, and you can decide if you'd rather be a widow or a divorcee. Come back. It's your only hope."

"My only hope for what?" she asked. Her tone was mocking, but her eyes were frightened.

"Abraxas is pretty slippery. Maybe he'll get out of this with the Manor and some money, and you and your son can live here with him. What kind of life would he offer you? Or maybe he'll lose the Malfoy fortune, and you can share a flat in Hogsmeade."

"Or a flat in Cardiff?"

"I haven't burned down Grimmauld Place yet," Sirius answered easily.

"What, exactly, are you offering me?" she snapped.

"Not as much as it sounds like, and more than you deserve. I can't protect you from the Wizengamot, Cissy. If you've taken the Mark, or committed some other crime, they'll do what they think is appropriate. But Draco is innocent, and I can offer him a name and a home. He won't live like this," he said, flinging his hand at the room they were in, "but he'll never starve, and he'll go to Hogwarts."

"Sirius, your heart may be in the right place, but I have no faith that you can deliver on your promise, let alone protect me from the wrath of the Malfoys. And I can't turn my back on the Dark Lord."

Sirius looked at her impatiently. "Cissy, the Dark Lord is dead. The Malfoys may be full of wrath, but they'll never be in a position to hurt you again. This is your best chance to protect your son from some of what's coming." Harry thought of how easily Lucius had gotten off last time, and wondered if Sirius knew that he was bluffing. Or did Narcissa know that Voldemort wasn't really dead yet?

For whatever reason, Narcissa was unfazed. "Sirius, I can take care of myself. I don't need my disreputable cousin to come waltzing in and save me."

Sirius sighed. "I was afraid of that. Narcissa, give me your wand, please." She looked at him in astonishment, and saw that both Harry and he were pointing their wands at her. She tossed hers on the floor in humiliated fury.

Sirius scooped it up. "I'm sorry about this," he said. "Well, a little sorry, anyways. Petrificus Totalus." She stiffened, and tipped backwards on the sofa. Sirius nodded at Harry, and he ran for the drawing room while Sirius covered their prisoner.

It was a few minutes' work to retrieve the diary from underneath the floor, and despite their position of strength, Harry's heart raced. But when he returned with the Horcrux safely bagged, Sirius was still there, and Narcissa was still petrified. He flashed Sirius a quick thumbs up, and headed directly into the Floo. Sirius tossed Narcissa's wand out the window, hit her with a quick Finite, and dived in after him.

* * *

><p>The Wizarding world had undergone another major change, and the Wizengamot chamber was in an uproar even before the evening's meeting started, but Harry viewed it all with a jaded eye. Alliances might shift, some families would lose influence and some would gain, but he had a hard time believing that any lasting change would come out of this meeting. The dreary formality of the opening reinforced this feeling, but beside him, James and Frank were looking on with keen interest.<p>

The Chief called upon Abraxas Malfoy first, and Harry watched with disgust as the man climbed to the podium. "Distinguished Witches and Wizards," he said, "it is with great joy that I address you on the day that the war has ended. Our world has been too long divided by this senseless conflict, and we must seize this opportunity to move forward together. In the interest of healing the wounds of the past, and overcoming the mistrust that has crippled us for so long, I offer the following proposal. For everyone under control of the Dark Lord, I propose a general amnesty." Cries of outrage sounded throughout the chamber, and next to Harry, James was standing on his chair, but Abraxas continued, his voice cutting through the noise. "In a gesture of reconciliation, I propose a new wing be constructed at St. Mungo's hospital, to be funded by contributions from prominent families of all political leanings. We must move forward together, in the spirit of cooperation and Wizarding unity."

Jeers and cheers followed the elder Malfoy as he returned to his seat, and Frank leaned over to Harry. "I think he's actually overreached. He was trying to leave himself some negotiating room, but the idea of a general amnesty might make people angry enough that they won't negotiate at all."

Indeed, the next person to stand had a very different proposal. "Our society has been ruled by fear for too long," he shouted, red-faced. "Everyone with the Dark Mark deserves life in Azkaban. Everyone else who helped the so-called Dark Lord should be brought to trial, where we can hear what they've done. Azkaban's not too good for them, either." Harry appreciated the sentiment, but the angry delivery didn't seem likely to win allies on the Wizengamot.

Harry saw that Sirius' wand was lit, but as the least senior member of the Wizengamot, it would be hours before he got to speak. An old witch was the next person at the podium, and Frank nudged his shoulder. "That's Mum," he whispered, and Harry looked down with renewed interest. "She's been talking to Sirius."

"Gentle Witches and Wizards," she said, her voice strong, "on this day of great triumph, it is the future of this body that concerns me the most. We have yet to see an accounting of those serving the criminal we so soundly defeated, but it is likely that many of his allies sit on this body, or someday will. This cannot stand." The room was silent. "We who sit on this body have a sacred duty to Magical Britain. And yet, some of us in this room waged war on the very society we are sworn to serve." The anger shone through in her voice, but she remained in control.

"The idea that these traitors should be allowed to hold their positions, to pollute this body with their continued presence, is unacceptable to me. Our enemies assassinated a duly elected Minister of Magic. They decimated our brave Auror Corps. And they were defeated, with the help of an ally we must soon acknowledge. They cannot be allowed to smile and return to their positions of power." Harry found himself leaning forward.

"My proposal is this: any witch or wizard on this body who carries the Dark Mark, or provided material support to our defeated enemy, shall face immediate dissolution of their House. Any House with a seat on this body must expel every member of that House who carries the Dark Mark, or provided material support to our enemy, or likewise face immediate dissolution. Ruling Magical Britain is a privilege, and it is one that must be denied to those who seek to destroy it. Thank you." The room erupted again, and not exclusively in outrage. Madam Longbottom seemed to have found her share of supporters as well.

Harry raised an eyebrow at Frank, and James looked on with interest. He shrugged. "That's a negotiating position too, of course. We'll never get all that. But we should get everybody with the Mark off the Wizengamot, and we'll probably get something more than that. Some kind of consequence to families that are all Death Eaters, like the LeStranges. And Crouch is getting ready to introduce something similar for the Ministry." Harry grimaced at that addition, knowing what was coming for Crouch, but James and Frank were excited about it.

The debate raged for a long time, but Harry was surprised by the amount of support the Longbottom proposal was getting. Apparently the traditionalists on the Wizengamot took the integrity of the body seriously, and Madam Longbottom had scored points with them by limiting the consequences to House dissolution, rather than insisting on terms in Azkaban. Even Dumbledore seemed to be in support. But true to form, the Wizengamot couldn't come to a resolution on such an important issue in a single night's debate.

Before it got too late, a stooped witch brought up the matter of rewards for those who slew the Dark Lord. The members, so recently at each other's throats, now tried to outdo each other with generosity. They proposed giving out Orders of Merlin like sweets, with galas and balls and celebrations well into the next year. When a Death Eater sympathizer made some hesitant jabs at 'vigilante justice,' he was shouted down by members who knew that Harry and Dumbledore had been deputized. None of Harry's fears came true – there was no move to charge him, or exile him, or force him to make reparations to Death Eater families. He left the meeting feeling encouraged about the future.


	9. Chapter 9

Harry awoke the next morning tired and grouchy. He had expended a huge amount of magic two days prior, and hadn't allowed himself much of a break in a long time. He and Sirius had done some celebrating of their own after the Wizengamot meeting, and they regarded each other across the breakfast table with bleary eyes and little to say.

It was guilt that led Harry to speak. "I might not have been quite fair in what I told you about what's going to happen next," he said.

Sirius sighed. "Is somebody going to try to kill me?" he asked, not very seriously.

"It's going to get pretty ugly for Crouch soon. I doubt he survives as minister."

Sirius focused on his coffee cup for a moment. "Don't tell me. He's not a Death Eater himself, no way. He's too much of a zealot to have been taking bribes. It wouldn't matter if he'd done something completely incompetent, because he won the war anyways. His kid – oh, Merlin. His kid."

Harry nodded. "Bad case of rebellion."

"So what happens next?"

"I have no idea. I don't even have a candidate in mind. But before this all goes to hell, we have a job to do." Harry dumped more sugar in his own coffee, and stirred it glumly.

Sirius looked a little more animated. "It's all going to hell today. They've been slow to announce the identities of the prisoners, but it'll come out, even if they're trying to suppress it. This could really tear the Ministry apart. I hope he does the honorable thing and resigns."

"Me too. But look, there's a lot to do. There are two Horcruxes to retrieve, and then we should figure out how we're going to destroy them."

"You don't know?" Sirius fairly shouted.

Harry shook his head. "Relax, I know of a few methods. It's just a matter of which is the most convenient."

Sirius put his cup down a little harder than necessary. "All right. What do we have to do?"

Harry grinned at him. "You figure out who the next Minister of Magic is, and what to do with Crouch. I'm going back to Riddle Manor. I'll meet you at the flat at lunchtime."

* * *

><p>It hadn't been long since Harry had retrieved another version of the ring Horcrux, and the traps and protections were fresh in his mind. He proceeded with caution, but finding and bagging the ring was no real challenge, and he was back at the flat well before his agreed-upon meeting time with Sirius.<p>

He put the bag with the others, and stopped for a moment. He had the ring, the locket, and the diary, as well as the piece of amber imbued with Voldemort's spirit. They were going to have to figure out how to get the cup. Nagini wasn't a Horcrux yet, and little Harry hadn't seen his second Halloween. So why was there an extra bag?

When he realized which one was missing, he cursed aloud. The diadem. That meant a trip to Hogwarts, and in all likelihood, another meeting with Dumbledore.

* * *

><p>He took the Floo to the Three Broomsticks before he had time to change his mind, and stomped down the path, dreading the upcoming conversation. Dumbledore seemed like a bigger problem to him than Crouch, and he had fewer confidants with whom to discuss the troublesome Headmaster. The walk gave him a little time to ponder what, exactly, might be motivating Dumbledore. He was only the Headmaster here, not the Chief Warlock, though Harry had no idea about his position in the ICW. It was possible that he was still consolidating his power, and might not directly oppose the changes that Harry wanted to see. But even if that were the case, could Harry afford to leave him in any kind of position of power?<p>

He arrived at the castle gates before he reached any kind of conclusion. "_Expecto Patronum,_" he muttered, and sent Prongs ahead to warn Dumbledore of his arrival. He had gotten no response by the time he arrived at the gargoyle, but he bit back his irritation and forced himself to address it politely. There was no reason to take his irritation out on Hogwarts. "I believe the Headmaster is expecting me," he said to the impassive stone face.

The silence that greeted his statement didn't do anything to lower his blood pressure, but it was only a matter of seconds before the gargoyle slid aside and he ascended the staircase. Before opening the door, he paused to consider whether he was making a mistake coming alone. Would he be met with hexes? Could he withstand a full-force Legillimency assault? He drew his wand, then sighed and put it away.

Dumbledore was alone in the office, dwarfed behind his massive desk. Harry was momentarily taken aback by his apparent frailty, before deciding that it must be part of his act. Dumbledore peered at him over his glasses. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Luthor?" he asked.

"We have work left to do. Or rather, I do. You were brilliant in the fight, Headmaster," Harry said.

"You were quite effective yourself." The old man sighed. "It was hard to watch the end of a man who once had so much potential. But the world will be a better place without him."

"That wasn't his end, Headmaster. You know that as well as I do," Harry said, almost gently.

"As you said, we have work left to do. Do you require my aid?"

"Just your permission. Tom left a piece of his soul in the school, and I would like to retrieve it," Harry explained.

Dumbledore started visibly. "A Horcrux in my school? Abominable. Where did he hide it?"

Harry swallowed a grin. "With all due respect, it might spoil part of the fun of being Headmaster if I told you."

"Not the Chamber of Secrets, then." Dumbledore stared into nothing for a moment, trying to puzzle it out, then looked back at Harry. "You have said little to convince me to trust you, but your deeds tell a different story." He folded his hands. "Go. Retrieve the Horcrux, and leave a joyful mystery behind to replace a deadly one." Harry stood, but Dumbledore fixed him with a stare. "What do you plan to do with them?" he asked. His tone was soft, but the hairs on the back of Harry's neck rose.

"I plan to destroy them. I haven't decided how, but there are a few ways," Harry said firmly.

"I think it wise if we allow the prophecy to be fulfilled."

Harry's heart sank, but he tried to reason with Dumbledore. "I'm the one in the prophecy. I can fulfill it. He marked me as an equal, and the power he knows not is that I know where all his Horcruxes are."

Dumbledore shook his head. "You are not from this world. The prophecy was not about you."

"The prophecy isn't about anybody, then. Did he ever get around to marking Harry, or Neville? You can't mean to let him do it. A thousand years from now, some other Dark Lord will be defeated by a kid born in July, and the prophecy will be fulfilled." Harry's argument had no apparent effect on Dumbledore. In fact, he was still as a statue.

"If we attempt to work around the prophecy, the repercussions are unpredictable. Fulfill it, and we stand on solid ground. Ignore it, and all may be lost." Dumbledore's voice was soft and mesmerizing, but Harry was unmoved.

"Harry and Neville are barely a year old. They're not ready to play with matches, let alone pieces of Riddle's soul. The prophecy is meaningless."

Dumbledore sat back, and his voice returned to normal. "Let us discuss this further before you make any permanent decisions."

Harry frowned. "It should be done soon. But let's collect the Horcruxes before we argue about what to do with them."

At Dumbledore's acquiescence, he left the office and jogged up to the Room of Requirement. The Horcrux was where he remembered it, and he sealed it safely in one of Amy's bags. He returned to the Headmaster's office to report his success, only to see James Potter's head sticking through the Floo.

"Nobody's sure who's in charge here, and it's all starting to look a bit dangerous," James was saying as he entered. "Ah, Luthor, glad you're here. Do you know where Sirius is?"

"He might be at the Ministry already. I think he was headed there today. What happened?" Harry asked, although he had a pretty good idea.

"One of the Death Eaters in custody turned out to be Crouch's son. He resigned on the spot. We've got a prison full of very dangerous people, a whole bunch of powerful Death Eater sympathizers still free, and nobody's running the show," James explained shortly.

Harry had an idea. "James, can you get in touch with Frank Longbottom?"

"He's on duty."

"I've got a very important job for him. Find him. I'll meet you in the DMLE office at the Ministry." James nodded, and his head disappeared.

Harry headed for the fireplace, then turned back to Dumbledore, one hand on the mantle. "Before I forget, you mentioned the Chamber of Secrets. There's a giant basilisk down there. I'm not sure what happens when there's no heir of Slytherin, so you might want to think about how to get rid of it. You know, for the students' safety." He threw in a handful of Floo Powder, called out, "Ministry of Magic," and left.

* * *

><p>James hadn't been exaggerating. The Ministry was a madhouse, with Aurors watching the incoming Floos, and a scrum of reporters at the checkpoint. Harry made his way through, and into the Ministry proper. Hit Wizards patrolled the hallways, wands drawn. The reception area of the DMLE suite was quiet, but the receptionist watched him like a hawk. He was glad when James and Frank showed up a few minutes later.<p>

"We'll be in conference room three, Yvette," Frank said, leading them down a hallway. She frowned and nodded.

They sat down, and Frank looked at Harry sternly. "Luthor. A little warning would have been nice."

"Sorry about that," Harry said. "Despite his son, he probably was the best man for the job. Or at least the best one who could get elected."

Frank and James shared a look. It was James who finally asked, "What did you want today?"

"Voldemort gave a piece of his soul to Bellatrix Lestrange for safekeeping. I believe it's in her Gringotts vault." He watched their faces fall. "I think we might be able to take advantage of the chaos to get our hands on it."

"Gringotts isn't in chaos. It's business as usual there," Frank objected.

"Has the Wizengamot gotten around to repealing any of the special laws they passed last week?" Harry asked. Frank and James shook their heads. "So it's legal for an Auror to use an Unforgiveable on a Death Eater?" They nodded. "Frank, can you put Bellatrix under the Imperius and get her to fetch something from her vault?"

"You have got to be kidding me," shouted James. "Frank, this is insane. Don't listen to him."

"James, I don't like it either, but it's the only way I see to get this done," Harry said, trying hard to remain calm. "Breaking into Gringotts is hard, and getting caught would be poisonous for Goblin relations. The Wizengamot is on a knife's edge right now. We could push for massive reparations, or DMLE searches of family vaults for cursed items, and try to get the cup that way. But we'll probably lose, and we might end up swinging the pendulum back to the Death Eater sympathizers. This is a legal way to get the last piece of Voldemort's soul back, right now."

"Look, this is not an option," James answered, his voice lower but still urgent. "We don't use Unforgiveables, even if the Wizengamot says it's OK. You were as disgusted by that law as I was. And it sounds like you don't even have the courage to do it yourself."

"I think I could do it," Harry said. "But I'd rather work within the bounds of the law, if I can." He paused. "Look, I see where you're coming from. But there's a difference between the Imperius and the Cruciatus. We're not torturing her, we're just forcing her to give us something. And it's not like we're using it for fun, or for personal gain."

James didn't back down. "That's the worst justification I've ever heard. There may be a difference in the results, but there's no difference in the effect on the caster. Do you know what using Unforgiveables does to you? How do you think Bellatrix got to be such a lunatic?"

"I'm not suggesting we make a habit of it. I just don't have another solution here."

"This is ridiculous," James started, but Frank laid a hand on his shoulder.

"James," he said quietly. "I think I should do it."

"What?" James looked almost betrayed.

"He's right. It's the best solution. I don't want to go to bed tonight, and tomorrow night, and the night after that, knowing that Voldemort's not really gone. We can finish this, James."

"At the cost of your soul, Frank. We'll find another way," James pleaded, anguish evident on his face.

Frank shook his head slowly. "There's no other way, unless you want to break in."

Harry remained silent as James put his head in his hands. "Frank, please. Think about this a little. We'll find another way. The cost is too high."

"The cost is high. But I'm doing it to protect my son. It's for Neville, James." Frank looked James straight in the eye. "Whatever happens to me, it's worth it to protect Neville."

James sagged in defeat. "Let's take it to Bones, at least. I don't want this coming back to haunt you."

* * *

><p>Amelia Bones was shocked at first, but Harry had already told her that Voldemort was not yet defeated. After a short discussion, she gave them her permission. Her only suggestion was that they use a different Lestrange. "Keeping Bellatrix under the Imperius would be like keeping a hornet's nest under your cloak," she had said, and so she led them to the cell containing Rodolphus Lestrange.<p>

* * *

><p>They made a conspicuous procession through Gringotts, with Frank in his Auror robes, a blank-faced Rodolphus making monotone requests of the goblins, and an edgy Harry forcing himself to remember not to draw his wand. But once again, the task proved simple enough. The goblins either didn't recognize the obvious symptoms of the Imperius curse, or didn't care what one human did to another. Hufflepuff's cup was where they knew it was, and Lestrange was able to navigate through the traps without getting himself killed. They had bagged the cup and returned to the Ministry inside two hours.<p>

When they returned Lestrange to his cell, Frank slammed the door and dropped the curse in one exhausted motion. Instantly the man came alive. "You filthy thieves!" he snarled. "I always knew you were a blood traitor, Longbottom, but—"

"_Obliviate_," Frank intoned. Lestrange blinked, shook himself, and retreated to the corner of his cell, where he watched them warily. Harry followed Frank up the stairs and back to the DMLE offices.

Frank held it together while they reported their success to Madam Bones, but by the time they got back to a fretful James Potter, Harry was steering him around by the elbow. He collapsed at the table, ashen-faced.

"You were right, James," he said, his voice shaky. "It takes a hell of a toll on you."

"I wish we'd found a better way," James replied. "But we owe you a lot. Thank you, Frank."

Frank raised his head. "I'm glad you feel that way. I thought you'd hate me. Hell, I hate myself right now. Don't think there's a hot enough shower in the world to make me clean."

"Go home. Go see Alice and Neville," Harry encouraged him.

Frank snorted wearily. "Not today, I don't think. Not with the Minister out." His eyes went far away for a moment, then refocused. "At the end of Auror training, they give you a speech about the temptations of the Dark Arts. It's good for us to hear; you start to feel invincible by the end of training, and it helps to have somebody who knows how good you are, and treats you like an adult, remind you that the Dark Arts have a high price. Moody gave it last year, and he made it stick in our heads. But I think I could do a pretty credible job myself right now."

* * *

><p>It was closer to dinner time when Harry finally met up with Sirius, but he was happy enough with his day. "Three," he said, holding up three fingers. "I got three Horcruxes today. What did you do?"<p>

Sirius snorted. "I didn't get three of anything. It's a bloody mess right now. Parkinson's going to run, but he's not going to get any support. Some glorified file clerk by the name of Cornelius Fudge is going to run. People seem to like him, but he looks like a weasel to me. Dumbledore won't say anything, but if he runs, nobody else on the Light side will jump in. I don't know what's going to happen."

Harry frowned. "Fudge is bad news. You might as well take the Death Eater; at least you'd know where you stand. What about Amelia Bones?"

Sirius shook his head. "I like her, but she's too young and inexperienced. She's only been DMLE Head for a week. She's not ready to be Minister."

Harry thought for a minute. "How long do we have to find a candidate?"

Sirius glanced at his watch. "About three hours. Emergency meeting tonight. I would never have taken my seat if I knew we were going to have this many meetings."

"Bugger that," Harry said.

"I know. I mean, we won the war, can't we take a week off?" Sirius said in mock indignation.

"No, I mean, bugger tonight's meeting. I've got a date. Pick out a good Minister for me, Sirius, because I won't be there."

* * *

><p>Harry and Sirius met back at Sirius' flat around midnight. Harry was visibly giddy, while Sirius was wearing a look of exhausted triumph. The two men eyed each other, both beginning to smirk slightly, until Harry burst into a chuckle, and Sirius spoke. "OK, you go first," he said. "I promise not to ruin your good mood."<p>

"It was a really good date," Harry said.

"Then what are you doing here? Or is Amy in my room, sound asleep?"

Harry frowned, or tried to, but it came out more like a pout. "It was just our first date, Sirius. Plenty of time for sleepovers later. But it was great. We went completely Muggle. I really wanted to try Indian food, and she didn't know any better, so we just picked a place in London. Have you ever heard of Vindaloo?" Sirius shrugged. "Well, it turns out that I can't do a highly-localized numbing charm wandlessly when my whole face is on fire, so that bit was kind of a disaster. But she'd gotten something lovely and creamy, so we shared that, and dared each other to take bites of my Vindaloo. Then we went to the cinema – ever been?"

Sirius shook his head. "Lily's always banging on about it, but I've never managed to go. She wouldn't take all of us – said we'd end up in jail or worse – and I never go Muggle on my own."

"We saw a film called 'Airplane!', which I think I've heard of. She said she was curious about airplanes. It's supposed to be funny—well, it is funny. Very funny. But she found the whole thing quite terrifying, so that bit was sort of a disaster too, except that she spent half the time with her head buried in my chest. So that was pretty nice."

Sirius looked somewhat mystified. "You scared the life out of her, and she rewarded you by burying her head in your chest?"

"I didn't scare her, the film did. Something about the inflatable golem—" Sirius blanched. "Look, never mind. The point is, she didn't hold it against me. Then we went to a pub."

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "A Muggle pub? With Muggle drinks?"

"Yes. Ever had Muggle drinks?"

He rolled his eyes. "Of course I have, I'm not a complete barbarian. They're all right, I suppose. Not very sweet."

"Right. Well, she refused to drink anything called 'bitter' or 'stout,' but she liked the cider all right. She hated the smoking, though, so that would have been a disaster, except my wandless Bubblehead Charm is actually very good. I think that impressed her. And we just talked, for a long time. It was really nice. I learned a lot about you, actually, and your best friends."

Sirius grinned. "All lies, I assure you. She wasn't even a prefect, so she wouldn't have had access to our detention records."

"She thought you were funny," Harry said. He shrugged. "I think you're funny, too. And she listened to me – I had to pretend that all my stories happened somewhere other than Hogwarts, but it was nice to talk about them with someone who understood. It was just a good conversation."

Sirius half-buried a grin. "And then what happened?"

"Oh, I took her home." Harry frowned again, more convincingly. "You're not getting any details from me." He paused. "OK, I kissed her goodnight, and then Apparated halfway across the country, five times in a row."

"You sound like your mother," Sirius said, laughing out loud. At Harry's annoyed look, he explained, "No, really. Her first few dates with James all went wrong one way or another, but it just made her like him all the more. He'd be half out of his mind with worry that she'd never speak to him again, and she'd just laugh it off and hold his arm a little tighter." His smile turned a little wry. "Of course, the time it was my fault, she just about hexed my eyebrows off. You see, it turns out that a wet-start firework—" but Harry cut him off, not wanting to hear any more.

"I hope you're right," he said. "Anyway, I'm seeing her again soon, and I'm happy. What's your news?"

"Oh, nothing," Sirius smirked. "I just got Frank's mum elected Minister."

"Augusta Longbottom?" Harry asked. "Was that wise, do you think?"

"Well, she can't be bullied, and she can't be bribed, and she's not a blood purist." Harry looked skeptical. "Sure, she's traditional, but she's not prejudiced about it. She went to your parents' wedding, and danced with James." He had to pause for Harry's astonished laughter. "I think she would have let Frank marry Lily, and I know for a fact she'd hire Lily in a minute. Besides, her speech last night made her quite popular."

Harry nodded. "All right, I can see how she'd be a good choice. What did Dumbledore think?"

Sirius looked pained. "He didn't say a thing. Declined the nomination, didn't make a speech, nothing. I have no idea what's going on in his head."

"Me neither," said Harry, shaking his head. "Me neither. But we'll get to talk to him soon. We have all the pieces of Voldemort's soul, and we should really do something with them."

* * *

><p>Author's note: If you're disappointed with how easily Harry deals with the Horcruxes in this story, you might want to check out Voice of the Nephilim's recently-completed story, The Unforgiving Minute. (Be warned, though, it goes to much, much darker places than this one.)<p> 


	10. Chapter 10

Inevitably, Dumbledore called another Order meeting the next day. Harry brought the Horcruxes, hoping that the meeting would end with him destroying them, but kept them inside his robe. Harry had expected to see a calmer group, with Voldemort defeated and few Death Eater attacks in the aftermath, but the members seated in Dumbledore's office when he and Sirius arrived looked distinctly uneasy. It wasn't until Harry saw Severus Snape sitting in the Headmaster's shadow that he understood why.

Sirius saw him a heartbeat after Harry did, and reached for his wand, but Harry laid a hand on his shoulder, and he paused. "Headmaster," Sirius said, instead of flinging hexes, "why is there a Death Eater at our meeting?"

Dumbledore remained impassive. Snape, however, shrank further behind Dumbledore. Harry took a closer look at the future Potions Master, and was appalled at what he saw. Snape had the same disorienting youthfulness as everybody else Harry was meeting, but he didn't have the healthy glow of twenty-year-old James Potter. He was almost emaciated, and his skin was crisscrossed with the smooth white lines of magically healed wounds. His dark eyes were sunken and lifeless, and he cowered behind Dumbledore.

"Mr. Snape has news that will concern us all," Dumbledore finally replied. Sirius did not look satisfied, and he might have responded in anger, but Frank and Alice Longbottom came through the door next.

"Severus Snape, drop your wand! You are under arrest!" Frank shouted, wand out. Alice took four quick steps to the side and covered Snape from his flank.

Snape did not move, but Dumbledore raised a hand placatingly. "Aurors Longbottom, your vigilance is a credit to your profession, but it is misplaced at the moment. Severus Snape is not a Death Eater, and he has come with important information about the last days of the Dark Lord."

Frank and Alice kept their wands raised. "We have reason to believe that he took the Dark Mark and participated in the Death Eater uprising," Frank said, eyes locked on the quailing Snape. "We are obligated to arrest him on site."

"I commend your dedication to your duty, but I urge you to hear what he has to say," Dumbledore replied. He had not moved for his wand, but the situation was clearly a standoff.

Until Alice muttered "Petrificus Totalus." Snape stiffened slightly as the spell hit, but Frank and Alice relaxed and lowered their wands.

"Headmaster, what is the meaning of this?" Frank demanded. Harry noticed that, while Frank turned to address Dumbledore, Alice kept her eyes glued to Snape. "The Order is not in the business of interfering with Aurors carrying out their legitimate duties."

Dumbledore looked pained. "As I said, he has important information that only the Order is in a position to act upon. I had thought that learning of this would be your greatest concern."

"And what happens after we hear what he has to say?" Sirius interrupted. "Do you turn him loose?"

Dumbledore began to respond, but Frank was shaking his head. "No side deals, Headmaster. If Snape deserves his freedom, it's up to the Wizengamot to decide."

"But surely it serves no greater good to have a reformed man go to prison," Dumbledore objected. "Your zeal-"

"It serves no 'greater good' to have you make that decision by yourself," Frank snapped. "And if you think I'm being overzealous, consider that I could have dropped him with a Killing Curse on sight, and been well within the law. Right now, you're aiding and abetting a suspected insurgent. At the end of this meeting, either I take Snape into custody, I take Snape and yourself into custody, or you get to explain to the Minister of Magic why you killed her son."

Dumbledore sighed. "Severus?" he asked.

Snape nodded, and a ripple of shock went around the room when they realized that Dumbledore had silently freed him from Alice's spell. "It doesn't matter what happens to me anymore," he said in a voice so cracked and soft that Harry found himself leaning forward just to make it out. "If somebody can defeat the Dark Lord, that's enough."

"Then please," Dumbledore said, gesturing around the table, "let us begin. Severus Snape has been working for the Order as an informant in Voldemort's camp for some time now. He has vital information to share with us. Severus, if you would?"

Harry glanced around the room, thankful that Lily was home with little Harry. He noted that everybody present was aware of Voldemort's Horcruxes. He also noted that Alice was sitting just out of Snape's sight line, and her wand was still trained on him.

Snape leaned forward slightly, and gave a dry cough. "The murder of Minister Bagnold was planned and carried out much more quickly than a normal Death Eater operation," he said. "Just days before it, the Dark Lord became very agitated. He demanded that his top lieutenants make plans to kill Bagnold and Chief Warlock Smith, and decided on Bagnold because she was an easier target." He paused, and slowly pulled a long, thin box out of his robes. "Nobody but the Dark Lord was present at her death. But I believe that he performed some kind of ritual beforehand, and I believe that it was related to this wand." He opened the box.

Frank peered at it. "I'd need verification, but that matches the description of Minister Bagnold's wand," he said.

"I haven't dared to use it," Snape said, and Harry nearly choked. "The Dark Lord's obsession with death is well known. I can't be sure, but I believe that this ritual was meant to protect him from death, though it seems to have failed."

Frank and Harry exchanged a long look, and Harry gave a slight nod. Frank stood. "Snape, I'll testify that you've done a great service to those working for the defeat of the Dark Lord. But I can't, in good conscience, let you walk free. Will you come to the Ministry with me?"

Dumbledore looked appealingly at Frank, but Snape ignored him. "I will," he said, and opened his robe to allow Frank to take his wand. They went through the Floo together.

Once he was gone, Harry looked at the wand Snape had left behind. "Albus, is there any way to verify that this thing is a Horcrux?" he asked.

Dumbledore passed his wand over the late Minister's, mumbling a long incantation. The eerie green glow seemed to satisfy him, and he nodded. "This wand contains a piece of a human soul," he said.

Harry sat back. "I don't understand," he said. "Voldemort's plan was to kill young Harry Potter on Halloween to make his final Horcrux. It's what he's been meaning to do all along. So why the sudden change? Why abandon his plans and go after the Minister?"

Sirius shrugged. "He did lose his spy in the Potter camp when Peter was arrested," he offered.

Harry shook his head. "True, but why not just go after the Potters right away? They're not in hiding yet. Or the Longbottoms, for that matter. Why change targets?"

James looked a little shaky at that idea, but he spoke up. "Could this have anything to do with your Fidelius charm?"

Harry stared at him for a moment, thunderstruck. "Of course!" he finally said. "Voldemort created a Horcrux because he didn't know he had any! We hid the knowledge from him with the Fidelius." Harry snorted. "Can you imagine the panic he must have felt, when he suddenly realized he had no idea where his soul was? Of course he took the quickest opportunity to make another."

Dumbledore looked sharply at him. "That 'opportunity' cost the Minister of Magic her life."

Harry sobered for a moment. "It's true, and I certainly didn't intend for that to happen," he said. "I don't know how we could have foreseen it, though, and I don't know if she would have survived the war anyways."

"Do you think he made any more?" Sirius asked into the following silence.

Harry grimaced. "I doubt it, but it will be hard to prove. There weren't any other high-profile attacks, were there?" Heads shook. "The only possibility is one of his inner circle, then. Let's make sure they're all accounted for before we destroy his spirit. But in the meantime, we've got one more Horcrux to destroy."

"That is our primary remaining topic for the evening," Dumbledore responded. "My knowledge on the topic is limited, but it seems there are distressingly few reliable methods to destroy a Horcrux."

Harry smiled widely. "Oh, I can think of some. Fiendfyre seems to do the trick. Basilisk venom is an old standby. We could even try the Veil. And I've always wanted to try Muggle methods - a blast furnace, or maybe a nuclear weapon."

Dumbledore closed his eyes for a moment. "Disregarding your last suggestion, I see few practical possibilities. Fiendfyre is the Darkest of magic, and I cannot countenance its use."

"It's only Fiendfyre," Harry began to object, but Sirius caught his eye and shook his head slightly. Harry sighed. "Stealing a nuke would probably mean Obliviating too many Muggles," he said.

Dumbledore twitched a lip. "I have recently been informed of a source of basilisk venom," he said, "but it seems prudent to establish some safeguards before marching off to acquire it."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Is there an Unspeakable in the Order that I don't know about?" he asked.

"I fear there is not," Dumbledore replied.

"So no access to the Department of Mysteries, and therefore no Veil. All right, the basilisk it is. Does anybody have a rooster?" Harry asked.

* * *

><p>To Harry's frustration, the Order agreed that at least some advance planning was needed before assaulting a basilisk in its den, and he went back to Sirius' flat with one more Horcrux than he had left with. His irritation that evening, however, was nothing compared to what he felt when he saw the next morning's Daily Prophet. "Potter Heir to Destroy Last Vestige of Dark Lord," the front page said.<p>

"Sirius!" he screamed. "Did you know anything about this?"

Sirius appeared, scanned the headline, and pounded the table. "We'd better go see James," he said, and the two of them Apparated to Godric's Hollow without eating breakfast.

They found an outraged James and Lily; James in particular was barely coherent, so it was left to Lily to explain. "He hinted at something after the meeting last night, but nothing like this," she fumed. "And of course we never gave him permission to involve Harry at all. What are we going to do about this?"

"What exactly does he have in mind?" Harry asked.

She shook her head. "We have no idea. The article just says that Voldemort's spirit has been trapped on this plane, and there's a prophecy that says that Harry is the one who will destroy him."

"Why is he so fixated on this prophecy?" Harry mused. "It doesn't make sense- it doesn't refer to Harry explicitly, and there's nothing that's happened here to make him think that it should be Harry over Neville."

"The prophecy is also the only thing that keeps him in the limelight," Lily noted. "If there's no prophecy, then we destroy the last parts of Voldemort, and the story's over. He's barely a footnote. But if it's his brilliant interpretation of the prophecy that destroys Voldemort, then he gets all the credit. Certainly nobody's going to believe a one-year-old has some special power to defeat evil wizards."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Don't be too sure about that," he grumbled. "But I'm not sure I see what you mean. You think he's a glory hound?"

Lily nodded. "That's the only thing that makes sense. He got used to being revered after Grindelwald, and now he's afraid of being forgotten in his old age."

"He must be the most inept glory hound in history," Harry said. "Think about it. Has he ever gotten any good press, for anything, in your whole life? He could cure Dragon Pox, and the headline would be 'Dumbledore decimates St. Mungo's budget.'"

Before Lily could answer, a head poked through the Floo. "Potters? Are you at home?" asked the voice of Albus Dumbledore.

Lily strode over to the fireplace. "Headmaster, you've got a lot of explaining to do," she shouted. "How dare you involve our son in this without even consulting us?"

"I apologize, Lily," Dumbledore replied. He actually seemed a little contrite to Harry. "I was thinking that it would be simpler to ask for forgiveness, rather than permission. I should not have involved young Harry without that permission."

"You're going to be asking for forgiveness from a lot more people, Albus. I'm not letting Harry anywhere near you, and you can just forget whatever you've got planned," Lily said, still shouting.

"Perhaps I could explain the specifics before you make up your mind?" Dumbledore offered.

Lily looked at James, then at Harry. When neither of them gave any indication, she turned back to Dumbledore. "Talk fast," she said.

"I continue to believe that the prophecy I heard refers to Harry, and that it spells out the only method of defeating the Dark Lord," he said. "With that in mind, I believe the safest way for Voldemort to perish at Harry's hand is for Harry to throw the piece of amber housing his spirit through the Veil of Death. I would like for him to perform this act as soon as possible, that we may be freed from the shadow of evil."

Lily did not look convinced. "First of all, Headmaster, when was the last time you spent any time with a toddler? He can't even get his fork to his mouth half the time. How is he going to get a piece of amber through the Veil? Second, that thing is incredibly dangerous, and as long as it's up to me, he's not going anywhere near it. That goes for the Veil as well- he could just wander on through, you know. And finally, your interpretation of the prophecy is ridiculous."

"Lily, I beg of you, indulge me in this. Whatever safeguards you require, I will provide. You and James will be present, of course. A sticking charm should keep Harry from wandering off. A banishing charm should ensure that the amber goes in the right direction. We cannot ignore the prophecy, or it will surely come back to haunt us."

"Let me discuss this with my husband," she said tersely. Dumbledore obligingly withdrew his head from the Floo.

"He's lost it," Sirius said as soon as he disappeared.

"He has," Harry said, "but we might have to go along with it." He waited for the cries of disbelief to die down, and explained, "Look, obviously I'm not going to let little Harry touch the amber. But his plan gets us into the Chamber of Death. Without that, we've got no choice but to go after the basilisk, which is not only dangerous, but expensive, if we're going to outfit the hunting party right. Besides, it's in Hogwarts, so Dumbledore can make it difficult. If we pretend to go along with his plan, I can crash the party and finish off Voldemort before Dumbledore knows what's happening. Harry will be completely safe, although that sticking charm might not be a bad idea."

"I don't like it at all," James said. "Are you sure there are no other ways?"

"None that I know of. A Killing Curse might do it, but I'm reluctant to cross that line," Harry said.

James and Lily exchanged a long look, long enough that Harry looked away in embarrassment. Finally Lily spoke. "We'll do it, as long as you promise that your highest priority will be protecting Harry from harm."

"I won't let anything happen to him," he said. "Now let's make some plans."

* * *

><p>In the end, it was just the five of them who went to the Ministry that night. Frank and Alice offered, but James was concerned about the appearance of nepotism. Remus' lycanthropy was too much of a potential distraction, and they couldn't be sure about anybody else in the Order's loyalties. They were met at the entry to the Department of Mysteries by Dumbledore, Madam Bones, Madam Longbottom, a pair of Hit Wizards, and two men Harry didn't recognize. Sirius nudged him. "Walter Smethwyk from the Wireless, and Elliott Comstock from the Prophet," he muttered.<p>

Harry groaned internally and stepped forward. "I suppose you're all wondering why I've brought you here this evening," he began, but Madam Longbottom was not amused.

"I'd like the Headmaster to make his explanations first. While I understand that this is a topic of great public interest," she said, glaring at the two reporters, "I don't like to learn about matters of Ministry security from the morning paper."

Dumbledore nodded. "I do apologize for my indiscreet approach. As I explained to the Potters earlier, I believe this to be the only way to be sure the Dark Lord is gone for good. With that in mind, I felt it necessary to dissuade some of my more excitable friends from trying something rash."

"Be that as it may," Madam Longbottom replied, steamrolling over Harry's attempt to respond, "the Ministry does not conduct business in the press. Really, Albus, you know my door is open to you, and Amelia's as well. What possible reason could you have for going to the paper?"

Dumbledore coughed politely. "Circumstances have left the remnants of the Dark Lord in the hands of those I believe less than reliable. I admit to using the press to attempt to embarrass them into bringing those remnants to the Ministry. While the tactics may be regrettable, the results speak for themselves."

Harry had to say something now. "I can only assume you're talking about me, but I have no idea why you think I'm unreliable. You brought me here against my will, and in return I killed Voldemort for you, just like I said I would. I didn't get so much as a new broomstick out of the deal. It's true, we disagree about strategy, but I haven't done anything to cause you not to trust me." Harry sighed. "We fought together so well on the battlefield. I don't understand why it's so difficult everywhere else."

The Wireless reporter stepped in. "Could you confirm your identity for us, sir?"

"I'm Lex Luthor. I cast the spell that destroyed Voldemort's body, but I couldn't have done it without Dumbledore, and Moody and a few dozen other Aurors. I didn't grow up around here, but I believe I'm a distant relative of Potter," Harry said, sticking to his story.

"Mr. Luthor, nobody doubts your brilliance in a fight," Dumbledore said. "But your wisdom with matters of prophecy is another matter."

Harry lost his patience. "All right. Does everybody want to know what he's so fixated on? Let's go to the Hall of Prophecies." And he strode off, giving the rest of them little choice but to follow.

If anybody was suspicious of Harry's familiarity with the Department of Mysteries, they were too busy gawking at the sights to say so. He led them through the Time Room, into the vast, gloomy Hall. He pushed down the memories of his first, horrible visit as best he could, but by the time they got to row ninety-seven, his palms were sweaty.

"Up here," he said, pointing with his wand, "is the prophecy that Dumbledore is relying on. You're all familiar with the way these orbs work?" Everybody stared at him, and he smiled wryly. "I guess not everybody goes on school trips to the Department of Mysteries. These orbs are enchanted so that only a person mentioned in a prophecy can remove it. So if I were to try to grab this prophecy here," he said, reaching for one on a lower shelf at random, "the enchantment would prevent me from taking it." And to demonstrate, he pulled on the orb, which remained fixed in place."

Nobody else seemed to have the power of speech, but he exchanged a look with James, and got a tight nod from him. "Now, this prophecy here talks about a Dark Lord, and one who can vanquish him," he continued, indicating the orb with the familiar string of initials. His own were not yet on it. "Dumbledore was lucky enough to hear it, and now he thinks the war against Voldemort depends on it. Sirius, I don't think this prophecy refers to you, but would you give it a try?"

Sirius put both hands around the orb without hesitating, but couldn't remove it.

"Now, James, I don't think this prophecy refers to your son, but would you let him try?"

Lily speared him with a look, but walked over to the shelf with little Harry in her arms. It turned out to be trickier than Harry had expected to convince a toddler to pick up a glass ball, but eventually Lily coaxed him to reach for it. When it wouldn't come free in his hand, he began to howl.

"Dumbledore believes that this prophecy holds the key to defeating Voldemort, and that it refers to Harry Potter here," Harry said, raising his voice to be heard over the distraught toddler. "Clearly he's wrong about the second part. But I think he's wrong about the first part too."

And before anybody could do anything, he cast two quick spells. The first was a silencing charm. The second conjured half a brick, a yard above the orb. As soon as it winked into existence, it dropped, shattering the prophecy sphere beneath it. A wisp of smoke appeared, but the silencing charm prevented anyone from hearing the prophecy. Dumbledore pulled his wand out and attempted to cancel Harry's charm, but he was quick enough to block the spell, and the wisp of smoke faded away, leaving just a few shards of glass on the shelf.

The hall was silent, except for the sniffles of little Harry. The reporters stood with their notepads open, quills dangling from their slack fingers. The Hit Wizards looked back and forth between Harry and Amelia Bones, waiting for her to order his arrest, but she was as thunderstruck as everybody else.

Finally the Minister of Magic recovered her poise, and gave a dry laugh. "Albus, I see why you were concerned with his methods, but you seem to be in the wrong here."

Dumbledore's jaw worked for a moment, but all he got out was, "Augusta...I..."

"No, Albus. You bet everything on young Mr. Potter, and you were wrong." She turned to Harry. "Mr. Luthor, do you have a better solution to propose?"

Harry took a deep breath. "Follow me," he said, and led them towards the Chamber of Death. When he reached the door, Amelia Bones grabbed his elbow. "Mr. Luthor, I think I see what you're proposing, but I'm afraid I must insist on secrecy oaths before we enter this room."

Each of them in turn gave the oath she specified, until they reached Lily. "I don't think I need to go in there with my son," she said.

"That seems wise," Harry said.

"Will you be all right outside?" James asked her quietly. "I'd like to see the end of Voldemort for myself." At her nod, he followed the rest of the group into the Chamber.

Once inside, Harry swallowed hard, and fought the urge to take his own advice and cast a sticking charm on his shoes, or on Sirius'. "Without going into too much detail, I have some magical devices that Voldemort believed would secure his immortality. They might even work. But I have them, and now I'm going to throw them through the Veil of Death." And without removing them from Amy's bags, he tossed Voldemort's Horcruxes through the Veil, one by one, leaving just the piece of amber. The bags simply vanished without a sound, the archway standing unchanged by their passage.

Harry didn't even pause to explain what he was going to do next. It was up to him now, as it had been so many times before. He hefted the piece of amber in his hand, and then lobbed it gently through the Veil after the Horcruxes.

When it crossed through the arch, it disappeared like the bags before it, but a black mist remained behind. As Harry watched in horror, it formed into a vaguely human shape, and began to drift away from the veil. He snapped up a shield charm from pure instinct, seeing Dumbledore do the same an instant later, but he doubted that it would be effective.

Voldemort's spirit coalesced and moved towards him for an agonizing moment. It felt like an eternity to Harry, who held his shield in place and tried desperately to think of a spell that might help in this situation. But before the wraith had covered six feet, it stopped, and then, as if pulled by a great force, disappeared through the Veil.

Madam Longbottom looked at him. "Was that...?" she asked.

"Voldemort's spirit," Harry confirmed. "It was anchored to those devices, and they must have pulled it through the Veil."

"Once again, our nation owes you its gratitude. These gentlemen," she said, eying the reporters sharply, "may omit some details, but every citizen will know that you have saved us once again." The reporters nodded, and one of them turned a calculating eye towards Dumbledore. The Minister raised her head, turned, and led the group out of the Chamber.

* * *

><p>Harry and Sirius sat in the flat, jittery with elation. Harry hadn't even realized how anxious the continued existence of the Horcruxes had made him, and now that they were gone, he felt free. At least, he did until Sirius described the day as "a complete and total victory."<p>

"There's so much left to do, though," he objected. "Dumbledore is still the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and holds a lot of influence in the Ministry. Getting him out of power is nearly as important as keeping Tom out, as far as I'm concerned."

"I don't think you have to worry about that," Sirius said. "He's through. With what those reporters saw, plus Bones and Longbottom, he'll be a punch line by tomorrow. Everybody already thinks he's off his rocker, and now they'll know it for sure. They'll never make him Chief Warlock, and I'll bet this is his last year as Headmaster, too."

"I hope you're right," Harry said. "There's so much more, though. The Death Eater trials haven't really started yet. I'm not sure it's safe for Muggleborns to walk the streets, even now. We haven't dealt with the Goblins, the House Elves, and have you decided what you're going to do about Draco?"

"We just destroyed Voldemort, once and for all," Sirius said in frustration. "Can we at least enjoy the moment?"

"All right," Harry relented. "But then it's back to work tomorrow. Do you think Madam Longbottom would meet with me? I hate this political stuff, but she at least seems willing to listen."

"I think so," Sirius said, deadpan.

"We should do that soon," Harry said. "But there's one more thing I want to do first."

* * *

><p>Harry and Amy sat entwined on the sofa in her flat. What had started as little more than an exploratory snog had quickly turned heated, and both of their robes now lay in heaps halfway across the room. Amy brought her hands between them, and Harry pulled back for a moment, but she began unbuttoning his shirt, pressing kisses into his neck and newly exposed chest as she went.<p>

Harry twisted out of his shirt, abandoning it on the couch behind him, then sat up straight. He looked at Amy, his heart filled with equal measures of lust and anxiety. It must have showed on his face, because she stopped what she was doing and held his gaze.

They sat there for a long moment, but just as the awkwardness was threatening to become unbearable, Aelf sailed through the open window and landed on Harry's shoulder. Harry snorted and Amy giggled, and the tension was broken. He leaned into her and slipped an arm around her shoulder, but addressed the owl. "Aelf, you have terrible timing," he began.

And then the rug was pulled out from underneath him, and he felt the tug in his gut. "Amy," he said, but he was gone before he could say anything else.

* * *

><p>Author's note: Thanks, everybody, for reading. I enjoyed writing this, and I have a couple of ideas for new stories (though neither will be a sequel to this one). Thanks especially to Heart of Spellz, beta reader par excellence.<p> 


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